


seasons change (and I have found you)

by anniebibananie (alindy)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, F/M, Roommates, Suicidal Thoughts, starks are cursed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: She moves into an apartment with a bunch of strangers because she needs to get away, to do something new; she never planned for everything that follows. Over the course of a year—through summer, fall, winter, and spring—Arya deals with the hardships of her past and the surprising hope of her future.





	1. s u m m e r

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure where this came from. I've mostly been working on it in secret because I didn't know where it would go or if I'd ever finish a lot of it, but this project actually means a lot to me. I hope you want to come along for the ride <3

                                                             

* * *

* * *

Honestly, it didn’t much matter to Arya all the tiny details about the apartment he was rattling on about. If it wasn’t there, it would just be somewhere else. Her standards weren’t high—somewhere away from the stretch of her family, somewhere she didn’t see Robb around every corner, somewhere she could try to _breath._ Just for a little bit, before the crippling weight fell back onto her shoulders like it had never left.

“There’s laundry right in building, just down in the basement—”

Arya stepped away from the man to pace the kitchen, turning back around to see the sliver of a view to the living room. It was quaint, but more in a charming way then anything else. The man stopped talking, sensing she wasn’t much paying attention anyhow. He was tall, broad with dark hair and bright blue eyes. There was something intimidating in his posture, yet she couldn’t find it anywhere in his actual demeanor.

“You don’t give a shit about any of this, do you?” he asked out of the blue, his shoulders dropping slightly.

She shook her head no. “Not really. I’ll take it, though.”

His eyebrows jumped up on his forehead. “You want the room?”

Nodding, Arya found a small smile on her lips. “When can I move in?”

* * *

His name was Gendry. Arya would repeat it in her head several times just to make sure she didn’t forget it, and he wasn’t the only occupant of apartment 418 to remember, either.

The third room belonged to a boy who seemed to unironically go by Hot Pie. Chubby with curly black hair, he carried himself as though he wasn’t quite sure how he fit into his body. He seemed nice enough though, albeit a little clueless, and wouldn’t shut up about baking when Sansa asked in an attempt to be polite.

The fourth and final roommate was Meera Reed. Arya had only met her while she moved in, and the other girl was on her way out to see her brother, but she assumed they could live together easily enough. Arya had never gotten along with other girls that well, but she had a good feeling about Meera with her unkempt dark hair and casual style.

“You sure you’re good here?” Sansa asked as she plopped down on the bed she had just finished making perfectly. Arya didn’t much see the point of making beds when you were just going to mess them up in a couple hours, but she appreciated the gesture anyways. “You could just live with Marg and me for a bit until you find somewhere better.”

Arya shrugged. “It’s fine here.” While Sansa and her relationship had grown since graduating from their childhood home into the buds of adulthood, Arya couldn’t deny that the mothering of her older sister was starting to place cracks in their dynamic. She didn’t want to go back to the hostility of her youth, and so it seemed much more practical to just get out. On top of a million other things, things she was dutifully not thinking about.

“Jon says Sam should be moving out any day now to move in with Gilly,” she said. She wiped her hands against one another, clearing dust off her palms. “If you just wait it out, or this doesn’t work, you should have somewhere pretty nice to go in a few months.”

The picture frames on the top of her freshly bought IKEA dresser looked kind of sad and misplaced. Arya fingered the edge of one of the frames, staring at the picture of the whole family a few Christmases ago. When she turned back around, it was weird to reconcile this Sansa with the one of their past. She didn’t even bother trying.

There wasn’t really a way to break up their bond anymore, though, she realized. They’d been through too much together for that.

“It’ll work here,” Arya said. There was a small part of her that thought it might not, really, but this was still by far her best option. It excited her more than anything else had.

Sansa nodded, knowing not to question it further. It was one of the things grown up Sansa had gained, an ability to sense the nuance of when she should and shouldn't speak, which seemed to benefit their relationship endlessly.

“I’m glad you like it. Really.” Her phone buzzed and she looked down. Arya watched the way her red hair fell in front of her face. “Bran wants to know if you want to meet up for a bite to eat?”

Arya looked at the half-empty space of her new bedroom. It would take time to make it feel more her own, even if she had hung some posters and pictures in the space. “Yeah, I’d like that. Tell him we can pick him up.”

Sansa texted, and Arya felt the possibility of the space. She could do something with this. This could work.

* * *

It was even easier than Arya thought it would be to slip into the folds of the apartment. She left to work when she had her kickboxing or self defense classes to teach, and besides that she relaxed in her room or in the communal space.

Meera was always in and out, she found. Mostly to see her brother or go to work, though Arya had yet to properly decipher what it was she actually did. Hot Pie worked incredibly weird hours at a local Hotel, usually during the odd hours of the night to bake before the guests woke up. And Gendry, well Arya was still trying to figure him out. They were all passing by each other like ships on their own course. It was companionable, but not close. Which was fine by Arya. She didn’t need more people to get close to; being close to people was a dangerous game she was tired of playing.

It had been almost a month and Arya felt better here than she had anywhere else and yet… the world wasn’t better. She hadn’t expected it to be, but she hated the way anger sat in her and flared up at the most inconvenient times. She hated how hard it felt to accept that life had changed and there was no way it was ever shifting back to how it was.

A lot of Fridays she went out with Jon and Sansa and their friends, sometimes Bran when he could be pulled away from his computer (but he didn’t like pubs that much, it made him feel uncomfortable to have to make a fuss with his wheelchair), but she couldn’t do it tonight. She had bought a huge case of beer on her way home from a private training session and was now sitting on the couch, working her way steadily through them as she listened to properly depressing music.

Arya wasn’t sure how many beers deep she was when Gendry walked through the door in a white tee shirt and an oil stain stripped down his neck. He noticed her and the pile of bottles, raising a brow.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Buzzed, and a little on edge, she tilted her head. “Drinking. What does it look like?”

He shrugged as he slipped out of his coat and fell onto the chair beside her. “You mind if I join?”

She motioned her hand toward the beers for him to help himself and scooted her leg underneath herself, leaning up against the arm of the couch as she sipped. “Just… don’t start talking about _feelings_ or anything.”

He laughed, amused and astounded. “You’re a weird girl, you know that?”

“Can we order pizza?” she asked instead.

He laughed a little more, staring for a beat too long to make her strictly comfortable. “Hot Pie!” he finally called out, looking down the hallway. A door opened and a minute later Hot Pie appeared, looking a little unsure. “You want pizza?”

“Wait,” Arya said, holding up a hand. “You were here the whole time?”

Hot Pie rubbed at his arm, eyes darting back between the two of them before he answered. “Yeah.”

“And you didn’t come out?” she asked.

“You seemed in a mood,” he said. He motioned his hand toward her. “You’re still in workout clothes and you bought a huge case of beers. It’s intimidating, Arya.”

She looked down at her black leggings and workout tanktop. All she’d done was come in, stomp over to the couch, and grumpily sit there since she’d come home. No wonder Hot Pie had avoided her. They all paused for a second, maybe unsure how she was going to react, and then laughter hit her like it hadn’t in what felt like forever.

Crumpling over, the laughter shook her whole body. The other boys joined quickly after, all three of them cracking up. Abruptly, the front door opened and shut with a slam. They turned, the laughter dying out, as Meera stomped over and sat on the couch next to Arya.

“My brother has a secret boyfriend and the shit head didn’t bother to tell me,” she said.

Arya looked over to the other boys in hopes they would know exactly how to handle that one, but she should have known they’d be useless. Turning back around, she leaned toward the coffee table and opened a fresh beer for her. Meera took it gratefully, chugging it down before stopping with a sigh.

“Thanks. Should we get pizza? We should get pizza, right?”

Arya nodded and pulled out her cell phone. “You read my mind.”

* * *

A few beers quickly turned into being truly, properly _trashed._ The music switched to something a little bit more lively and louder, they ate enough pizza to feel it pushing against their stomachs in pain, and they talked about nonsense. Meera ranted about her brother and Hot Pie about his ass of a manager. Gendry stayed fairly silent except for his jovial laughs and teasing.

“What got you in your funk, Arya?” Hot Pie finally asked. His words sloshed together almost as much as the drink in his hand, and Arya could tell it was whisky-driven courage with which he asked.

She shook her head no, because the thought alone was already clawing at her throat. It flashed behind her eyes familiarly, the mental scar she could never escape. A slideshow of her worst moments that always seemed to appear right when she was at the brink of something good, just to remind her all that she had lost. Robb. Mom. Dad. Rickon. How unfair it was, how much had been taken from her.

“Not a fun story,” she said after a too long beat of silence.

Hot Pie shrugged. “Come on,” he pushed. “I feel like I know nothing about you.”

Arya eyed the room. Meera seemed to lean in a little closer, curious but not wanting to push. Gendry eyed her casually, like he too was trying to not put too much pressure on her. She could say it, but then the words would freeze the room. They’d just be more people added to her grief list, and what was she doing in the first place? Trying to make new friends? Friends were people you lost.

She stood up abruptly, hitting the coffee table with her knee and feeling the burst of pain at the sharp hit. “I have to use the bathroom.”

Meera said something, breaking the silence as Arya walked down the hallway. She shut the door behind her and gripped the counter. It was cold against her surprisingly warm skin. A happy memory. Her crashing a field hockey ball into the goal and helping the win for their final game of the season. Her family with their haphazardly-made signage and over-enthusiastic cheers.

But then… the shooting two years later. The car crash six months after that. The overdose only half a year ago. The last few years of her life had been a domino trail of tragedy. Starks were cursed, she had decided.

It scratched at the back of her eyelids and clawed at the inside of her throat. “Fuck,” she muttered, but it didn’t feel like enough. “Fuck!” she yelled, banging her knee harshly two times into the old wood of the cabinet below the sink.

Pulling back, she saw the pool of red where the wood had scratched at her skin. Arya sat on the edge of of the tub and ducked her head between her knees. _Deep breaths,_ Sansa would remind her if she was here. She’d pull Arya’s face into her hands even though Sansa knew she wasn’t the biggest on physical touch and make them breath together. _In and out_ , she’d say. _Like your pace as you run._

A knock came on the door, and Arya reminded herself where she was. This was her apartment, but she was not alone.

“Can I come in?”

Arya breathed in deep. “Yeah,” she said.

Gendry walked through the door, closing it softly behind himself. He was so broad. She always knew it, but it was even more apparent as she sat so far below him. Next to him, she must look so tiny.

He eyed her, taking note of the knee and bending to grab the first aid kit from below the sink. There was something oddly puerile about the way he crossed his legs and sat in front of her, taking out the antiseptic and bandages.

“You alright?” he asked, looking up at her face briefly from beneath his furrowed brow.

She tilted her head, eyeing him in return but not saying a word. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious they both knew she wasn’t. It was obvious that wasn’t even what he was _asking._

Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the way he touched her skin lightly and delicately, trying his hardest not to hurt her or manhandle her. Maybe it was the shining of understanding beneath his blue eyes.

“I’m kinda fucked up,” she said. It sounded ridiculous enough aloud she let out a brief laugh of the self-deprecating sort.

He nodded, giving her the twist of lips that was almost a smile but not nearly happy enough for it. “If it helps, so am I.”

“It might,” she said truthfully. Maybe to someone else it was nothing, but to her… it felt like _something_ to admit that _._

He nodded again, biting at his lip to keep down a smile. “You know,” he said, finally letting the mirth take over his features, “you’re a fitness instructor. You could just take your anger out on a punching bag. It would be easier for us both.”

She kicked his shoulder lightly with her foot, half almost _fond_ and half frustrated. “Maybe I should just take it out on you.”

He scoffed. “You couldn’t take me in a fight.” Closing up the first aid kit, he turned and threw it back underneath the sink.

Arya stood back up, feeling the ache in her knee. Gendry held out his hands for a boost up, and she yanked him back to his feet with all her might. “This is ridiculous,” she groaned. “You’re a giant.”

“Nah,” he said with a laugh, “you’re just miniature.”

He laughed some more as she pushed him down the hall.

* * *

“How are the roommates?” Sansa asked. They sparred back and forth, a gleam of sweat on her forehead.

Arya went for a fake jab on her right and quickly moved back to the left. Sansa let out an aggravated huff as she retaliated.

“They’re fine,” she said. It had been about a week since her blow up, and luckily none of them had acted all that different toward her. Besides for it being less awkward in the apartment, a bit more friendly. Gendry liked to tease her in the mornings when he brought her a cup of coffee.

Sansa paused to take a breath before walking over to her water. “I think I’m getting at least a little better, right?” she asked. She sighed and took another sip of water.

They’d started training after Ned’s death, but it had only gotten more recent after the car crash. Incredibly frequent after the drugs. It was like each tragedy seemed to sew them tighter and tighter to each other. Bran, Jon, Sansa and Arya. The survivors.

“Maybe you should invite your roommates out for a drink. I know Jon would like to meet them, too. It would be nice to get to know them a bit better.”

Arya hit the punching bag as she waited for Sansa to be ready to jump back in. The door to the room opened, and Jon walked through. Sansa seemed to perk up, and as they shared a smile Arya crunched her eyebrows together. Even after all this time there was something weird about seeing how close they had gotten.

“Would you really like to meet my roommates?” Arya asked Jon. It took all her willpower to not sound mocking about it.

He looked a bit out of sorts on where the conversation had come from, but he nodded just the same as he threw his bag down in the corner and grabbed out his sparring gloves. “I think it’s weird you’ve lived with people for two months and I have no idea who they are.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but having her roommates meet with her family was a point of no return. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll invite them on Friday, but it’s not my fault if they say no.”

Sansa had more pep in her step as she came back to fight, her ponytail flopping from one side to the other. “That’s all we ask.”

* * *

That night she dreamt about it. Sansa, her, and Ned had been out for dinner and a movie. Robb had mockingly called it daddy daughter bonding before they left, which Arya had responded to with a middle finger and a rude smile.

“I can’t believe we just sat through two hours of that shit,” Arya said with a groan.

“Oh, you must have liked _something_ about it,” Sansa replied. “Hating everything doesn’t make you cool, you know.”

“Girls,” he warned with the stern love Arya missed constantly.

They were cutting through to the parking lot by way of the alley behind the theater when a sweatshirt-clad figure appeared. “Your wallets,” he said. Suddenly, all Arya could see was the gun in the half-lit night. “Come on, all of it.”

Ned stepped forward, trying to shield the girls. His hands were up and he moved them slowly toward his back pocket. “Just put the gun down, please. We’ll cooperate, but you don’t need to use that.”

The man pushed the gun forward before lifting it up to the sky and shooting it off once. “Come on, old man. Money. Now.”

Sansa squealed and Arya felt fear and anger in equal measurement fill her to the brim. Ned moved to the wallet again, taking a few steps forward to toss it on the ground in front of the man.

“Watch, too,” he said.

Ned shook his head no. “It has sentimental value. Just leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

The next bit always came in a blur, even when Arya really tried to break it down step by step. There was a bit more arguing. There was Sansa crying silently next to her. The sound of another bullet and police sirens and Sansa and her cradling their father’s head in their laps. Telling him they loved him as he passed away.

“Please don’t go,” Sansa begged. Her hands were pushed into the wound on his chest, blood seeping over her ivory skin.

“I love you girls,” Ned said between gasps. “I love…”

By the time the ambulance came, there was nothing left to save. Just two young women, covered in their father’s blood, holding their bloodied hands clasped tightly together.

* * *

“Why are you so nervous?” Gendry asked. He rapped his knuckles against the bar, reaching forward as he tried to get a drink from the bartender.

“I’m not nervous.” Though, Arya was a bit tired. The end of the week had ended up feeling long.

He scoffed. “Ok. God, why can’t I get a fucking drink?”

Arya rolled her eyes and stepped her foot on the side of the nearby stool a burly man was sitting on, resting a hand on Gendry’s shoulder to balance as she used the height to lean over the bar. Using her free hand, Arya stuck her thumb and pointer finger in her mouth to whistle and waved when the bartender looked over. “Brienne!”

“You come here a lot then?” Gendry asked. He rested a hand on her waist to ease her wobbling.

Arya nodded. “It’s kinda our spot.” Brienne appeared in front of them, and Arya smiled. “Can I get a pitcher of beer?”

“You care which one?” Brienne asked.

“Nah, take your pick.”

Brienne nodded toward Gendry as she filled a pitcher. “Who’s this one?”

“Gendry meet Brienne. Brienne, Gendry. He’s my roommate. Well, one of them,” she said. Arya shifted her gaze toward Gendry. “Brienne’s the toughest woman I know, and she’s married to a real wimp.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “You know Jaime will really appreciate that.”

“Jaime hates me,” Arya said to Gendry with a grin.

“He doesn’t _hate_ you.” Brienne brought the pitcher up to the bar top. “He just thinks Sansa is nicer.”

“Everyone does. I’m too ‘feisty and uncouth’,” she mimicked in his voice.

“If he didn’t like feist he wouldn’t be married to me. Stop calling him a wimp, and he’ll like you more. Now take your beer, and let me do my job. Nice to meet you, Gendry.”

Gendry nodded with a small chuckle, taking the beer and holding Arya’s forearm as she hopped back down to the ground. “She’s fun.”

“Yeah, she used to know my mom.”

Arya was saved from continuing that thought, or seeing the way his face reacted to that comment, by arriving at their table. Whatever Hot Pie and Meera had been talking about meandered off into nothing as they went after the beer they placed down.

“Arya!”

She turned, noticing Sansa pushing Bran and Jon closely behind them. The rest of their table turned, and Arya really wasn’t sure _why_ her heart beat a little faster and her palms became slick.

“Hey,” Arya said as they sidled up to the table. “Hot Pie, Meera, Gendry, meet Jon, Sansa, Bran.”

“I think I’ve met Hot Pie. You ever figure out that pot roast?” Sansa asked with a friendly smile.

Hot Pie nodded enthusiastically. “All it needed was a little more time and love.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Bran? Jon?”

“I’m alright with beer,” Bran said, rolling his chair up to the edge of the table.

“Arya come up with me,” Sansa said, though it was more of an order than anything else. She looped her arm through her sisters and tugged her away before Arya could argue. Brienne noticed them instantly as the approached the bar and started on Sansa’s regular drink.

“Why’d you pull me away?”

“I want Jon and Bran to be able to interrogate without you hovering over them.”

“Hey!”

Sansa chuckled. “I’ll buy you a shot.”

A shot and a few drinks later, everything seemed to be going well enough. Jon and Gendry were getting along almost frustratingly well. More surprisingly, Meera and Bran had been deep in conversation all evening. Arya snuck away as it got later, knowing Sansa wouldn’t appreciate her going off outside to grab a smoke.

“Can I bum one?”

Arya looked up to see Gendry leaning on the brick wall beside her. She pulled the pack from her back pocket and held it out for him. He had his own lighter, which he lit the end of the offered cigarette with.

“When’s your and Jon’s wedding?” she asked between puffs.

“Oh, don’t be _jealous_ ,” he teased, hitting her shoulder with his own.

She rolled her eyes and took a long drag.

“He said he’s not your brother,” Gendry remarked.

Arya dropped her cigarette, crushing it with her boot. “Typical Jon. He is, just not through blood.”

“He said…” Gendry cleared his throat, and Arya pulled her flannel more tightly around herself as a chill rushed by. His eyes went too soft, and she felt herself bristle. “Just, well your family—”

“Fuck off,” she said. She took a few steps away toward the road, trying to take a deep breath. A car rushed by, loud and clanking. It wasn’t his fault, Arya reminded herself. She couldn’t help the fire within her, though. The bite of something feral in her throat.

“I didn’t mean—”

She turned toward him, fists clenched at her side. “Did you ever think I didn’t want you to know? That I was trying to keep you separate for a reason? Now all you’re going to do is look at me with stupid pitying eyes and I can’t—Fuck.”

“Arya,” Gendry aid sternly. “All he said is it’s only you guys now. And I’m not going to fucking _pity_ you. You’re too much of a pain in my ass.”

She laughed, a little bitter. A little mad. “Buy me a beer?” It was a clear subject change, but neither of them seemed to mind.

He scoffed. “You don’t need another beer.” His cigarette fell to the concrete where he stamped it out.

“I want one, though.” She came back to his side, turning them toward the entrance of the bar.

He shook his head. “Such a brat.”

She held the door open for him and rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Fine,” he said. “One beer.”

He guided her through the bar with a hand on her lower back. It felt warm.  _So am I,_ he said when she had said she was fucked up. Maybe he understood. Maybe he was just _trying_ to because he knew the feeling of an unstoppable rage at the things you couldn't change, too. She shrugged it off, letting him guide her back to Brienne and another beer. For the sake of the night, she let the thoughts wash away with the tang of alcohol. 

* * *

Meera came in the next morning, taking the coffee pot off and pouring herself a mug. “It’s cool if I date your brother, right?” 

Arya snapped her eyes to Hot Pie who was sitting on the other side of the couch. He barely noticed. “You want to date Jon?”

“Bran, you idiot,” Gendry said as he appeared from the hall.

He was shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants low on his hips. Arya hadn’t realized how clearly ripped he was. It was a bit distracting, and she felt her mouth go dry at his defined muscle as he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

“So, it’s okay?” Meera asked.

Arya snapped her eyes to her. Meera’s brow was raised, and Arya felt her cheeks go warm. “Yeah. That's fine. Best of luck.”

“Oh, I don’t need luck.” Meera pushed herself away from the counter and sat down on the chair, leg underneath herself. “It’s going to work out perfectly.”

Arya chuckled, shaking her head. Her eyes wandered to Gendry who was putting a piece of bread into the toaster. It shouldn’t be this attractive, Arya thought. The sight of his bare skin shouldn’t be so magnetic.

When she turned back to Meera, she looked properly amused. Arya rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help herself from sneaking another last glance before looking back down to her computer.

* * *

She didn’t mean to do it, really. When it came down to it, she wasn’t all that sure where it came from. She _knew,_ of course, that it came back to the endless supply of death and destruction in her life the way all things did. But _specifically_ , she wasn’t all that sure what had her crawling further and further into her skin.

It might have come down to Meera and Bran, who were getting closer and closer. Meera wasn’t one for oversharing, but she always came home with a pep in her step and too many smiles. Maybe it was the way Hot Pie had started leaving her tupperware containers labeled with her name with food for when she worked long nights. Maybe it was the fact that Gendry seemed to be able to make her laugh, make her frustrated in an almost endearing way, when she wanted to feel nothing at all.

In the end, it didn’t matter all that much. What mattered was that she was bitter and empty at the same time. That she couldn’t see these people because it was just a reminder of all she could lose if it continued. Sansa and Jon and Bran were already too _much_ to lose. Arya knew the way loss shaped your life, the way it carved at pieces of yourself.

She couldn’t do it again.

It was moments like those in which Arya wished she was no one. No name. No person. Just a shell of a human being living day by day. Then she could pretend she wasn’t Arya Stark, the girl who’d lost all her family. The girl with enough tragedy to drown in it. She’d travel the world and be a million different people.

She was too loyal to leave behind her family, but she could protect herself. It was self-preservation, really, that had her locking herself in her room. Not talking to anyone. Cancelling her private sessions when she couldn’t seem to get out of bed. Shutting the phone off. Arya was fine. She’d swear it up and down.

“Arya?” came Meera’s voice and a knock through the door. “We haven’t seen you, are you okay?”

Words felt unbelievably heavy in her throat. Moving felt too incredibly difficult. “Fine,” came out a croak that barely sounded like her own voice.

There were a few footsteps. A low murmuring. But the quiet came again, and Arya fell into it.

* * *

Arya wasn’t sure how much time had gone past, truthfully. She tried avoiding the bathroom and the communal space as much as possible, so she listened for sounds to die down before she slipped through the halls. She knew her head was starting to feel a bit itchy from lack of showering and that her room felt stale. But her windows were covered and her phone turned off, so daylight and hours were nonexistent.

Sometimes, she slept for what felt like forever. Sometimes, she listlessly looked at her computer, or a wall, or trash television. She’d gotten someone to take over her classes for at least a week, and she figured so far she was fine.

“Thank god you’re here.” It sounded like Meera. She was clearly trying to whisper, but it was coming through the walls nearly crystal clear.

“She hasn’t come out of her room?” Sansa. They’d called in Sansa. “It’s near our mom’s birthday, which is always hard. When was—”

Arya pushed to her feet, having to take a second to readjust her balance after jumping up so quickly, and went to throw open the door. “What are you doing here?”

Sansa and Meera were standing at the end of the hallway, right where the combined kitchen and living room met it, and Arya could see Gendry futzing around in the kitchen. The only person not there was Hot Pie.

“You missed our training session,” Sansa said. She looked as perfect as ever. Black leggings and a pink, crop top. Her hair was up in a swinging, red ponytail.

Arya didn’t feel the small spout of jealousy she sometimes did in childhood all that often anymore, but for a moment she did. It was weird, though, because it was the most she’d felt in days. The biggest spike in the monotonous nothing she’d been riding.

“I’ve been sick.”

It felt like Arya could imagine how she looked for the first time. Greasy hair, well-worn sweats, dark circles underneath her eyes. Small and dirty and tired. She almost felt embarrassed.

“Well, I won’t train with anyone else so you better get yourself together,” Sansa said, crossing her arms in front of herself. That was just her, trying to put it all back together without making it seem like she was doing anything at all.

“Can you…” Arya trailed off, unsure of how to describe how even moving to get the door had taken almost all of her energy. “Can you help me for a second?”

It was a surprising admission. Even Gendry in the back perked up at the question, stopping his sandwich making to look at her briefly.

“Of course,” Sansa said after the brief and barely noticeable stunt of shock. She stepped into Arya’s room and shut the door behind her. “What can I do for you?”

“Maybe you could braid my hair?” she asked almost sheepishly.

Sansa gulped, face falling heavy, but nodded. This was what Catelyn used to do when they were children. Sit them down and make them wait to have their hair beautifully braided. Sansa had picked it up easily with her skilled hands, but Arya had always just opted to cut all of her hair off and avoid the issue entirely.

Arya sat on the ground next to her bed, and Sansa sat on the edge, scooting her legs around Arya’s form. “Sometimes,” Sansa said as she raked her fingers through Arya’s slowly growing locks, “I miss them so much I don’t think I can even breathe.”

Arya clenched her eyes tight. Crying had never come easily to her, but sometimes she felt like there were needles pricking at the back of her eyes. “You’re so good at it,” she croaked out.

Sansa paused in her actions to reach for a nearby glass of water, passing it down to her. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she had gotten while she withered away on the bed.

Arya continued. “It cripples me, and you balance a million things, keep moving.”

“We all cope differently, right?” Sansa scoffed. “You can’t move, and I can’t _stop_ moving. I pile on a million things until I can’t even think. If only we could meet somewhere in the middle, right? Then we’d be better.”

They sat in silence besides for the sounds of Sansa tangling pieces of Arya’s hair together.

“What happened this time, Arya?” Sansa asked softly. “Or was it all about mom?”

Talking to Sansa was still hard. They’d gotten undeniably closer, but there were moments where all Arya wanted to do was lash out. The initial flare of anger came, and she pushed it down and took a deep breath.

“I got scared,” she admitted. “Having new people in my life that I _like_ , that I care about…”

“And Meera started dating Bran which didn’t make it any easier,” Sansa said with a knowing sigh. “I think it has to get easier at some point. Or maybe we just get more used to it, I don’t know. Sometimes, I get so happy and I forget and then I just feel _guilty._ I don’t think we should feel bad about living, though. I don’t think they’d want us to.”

She hurt and she loved and she felt such a conflicting current of emotion running through her body all at once Arya didn’t even know how to react. It was the least she could do for all of them, really. Live with all she had. Keep pushing forward. Keep _trying._

“Hey Sans?” Arya asked. Sansa hummed in reply as she finished off the braids. “I really don’t have the energy to work out with you. I promise I’ll go back to work tomorrow or the next day, but… do you think we could just go get some fast food or something?”

Sansa laughed, bright and cheery, and kicked Arya's back lightly to get her to stand up. “Sure. I could use a little ice cream, anyways.”

Arya took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She was haggard, but there was feeling in her face at least. Turning to her sister, she tried to pretend she had it all together. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped.

“Maybe we could invite my roommates.”

Sansa beamed, and Arya felt like she was falling apart, but at least she had people who were trying to help her keep it together. It made her feel, at the very least, a little bit better. A little more hopeful.

* * *

“Where is everybody?” Arya asked, falling back onto the couch.

Gendry shrugged. “Pretty sure Meera is out on a date with your brother.”

“Holy shit. She really wasn’t joking when she said she didn’t need luck.”

He laughed, finally looking up from his laptop and setting it to the side. “She really wears you down until you can’t help but love her.”

Arya gave a small smile. “You don’t say.” She paused. “And Hot Pie?”

“I don’t really know what Hot Pie does in his free time. We’ve lived together for like three years, and it’s still a complete mystery.”

“You’re lived together that long?”

He nodded. “He’s an easy roommate.”

They turned on the couch so they were facing one another, each’s back against one of the arm rests. Arya kicked her leg into his, and he narrowed his eyes in her direction.

“Am I an easy roommate?”

“Oh, definitely not,” he answered without a moment of hesitation. She stuck her tongue out. “ _But_ I still wouldn’t trade you away if it makes any difference.”

“You _like_ me,” she joked.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotten used to your presence.”

Arya smiled, the feeling warming a path through her chest. He looked so carefree right now—a slick of oil on his collar bone, a loose white tee shirt showing off his arms, and a comfy pair of sweats. Things sometimes seemed to weigh on him, but right now he looked young. An unavoidable fondness took hold of her.

“You’ve still got oil on you,” she said. She leaned forward, crawling over the couch to get to the spot he kept missing.

Oil didn’t matter much to him, mostly because it was just a side effect of the profession. It had seemed like a good idea to help him out at first, but now she was realizing coming up to him meant practically straddling his lap. She brought her hand up to the spot and tried to avoid a flush across her cheeks.

“You’re always missing spots,” she said.

He chuckled, and she could feel the rumble through him from her place so close to him. “It’s just what happens. Too much effort to fight it.”

Finally, the skin looked back at her clean, and she nodded with the achievement. The moment crystallized. Here she was, planted on his lap, and his face was _so close._ Laughter died on both of their lips, and Arya didn’t know what to do with the moment. She nearly panicked, but then he cleared his throat and looked away. Scurrying back to her spot on the other side of the couch, she cleared her own throat.

“I haven’t been to the water all summer, you know.”

“Neither have I.”

“Well, that won’t _do_ ,” Arya said with wide eyes. “I need to see the water at least once. How far from us is that lake? I can’t remember the name, but I know it’s got all the pretty hiking trails?”

“Only about an hour,” Gendry answered for her. His voice got a bit dreamy. “I used to go there all the time when I was younger with my mom.”

Arya nodded. “Well, that's settled then. We _have_ to go at least once before fall hits. It’ll be fun, we’ll get all of us together when we have a free day.”

“Whatever my lady commands,” Gendry said with the tilt of a fake hat.

“Fuck _off_ . I am _not_ a lady and definitely not yours.”

Gendry shrugged with a shit-eating grin. “Fine. Fine. Does princess suit you better?”

Arya wished his reflexes weren’t quite so good. At least then the pillow she threw at him wouldn’t have missed.

* * *

Sansa had practically refused to remove her feet from the edge of the water for at least the last hour, though Arya hasn’t been timing it. Arya found it funny how Jon kept wading in and out, checking to make sure she was okay before coming back to the spot Gendry and Arya were currently sitting.

Bran was out of his chair and on a blanket, Meera on one side and Hot Pie on the other. JoJen was meant to show up at some point, maybe with his boyfriend, and Jon had said Sam would maybe appear as well. It had been a good day so far, at least by Arya’s standards.

“He’s worried about her,” Gendry said as they watched Jon wade in again. Sansa splashed him with water in irritation, and he laughed jovially back in return.

“Yeah, Jon is kind of like a mother hen really,” Arya said with a chuckle. “I mean, he’d be the first to deny that, but he is.”

Gendry shifted, leaning back on his palm. They were sitting on the top of the picnic table nearby, surveying the scene. They’d come over initially to get another drink and had sat down, liking the slight elevation of the view.

“Can I ask a slightly personal question?” he asked as he watched Meera slap Bran’s arm, the two of them laughing, with a slight smile.

“Shoot.” Arya took another swig of her beer.

“How did he end up in the chair?”

It was weird, sometimes, to remember that though all the surviving Starks felt tragedy in their bones they didn’t necessarily outwardly wear it. The story wasn't as obvious to everybody else as it was to them. Bran wore it through his chair obviously, but even then it wasn't clearly written.

Arya cleared her throat. This sort of question was one she’d been asked a lot. It was easier to answer than some of the others. “A car accident. The one that killed my mom and my younger brother… he was in the car, too. He ended up paralyzed from the waist down.”

“How long?” Gendry asked. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a quick puff before passing it to her. There was something so erratic about how he smoked, though she figured it probably applied to her as well. Random moments, mostly when they drank, but other than that cigarettes weren’t a constant. Maybe he had thought she would like the distraction as she spoke. 

“A few years. Long enough ago I shouldn’t still feel it the way I do,” Arya said bitterly. She passed the cigarette back. “But that's neither here nor there.”

He blew the smoke downwind and grabbed at Arya’s beer to take a drink of that, too. “I don’t think it really goes away, honestly. I mean, my mom died when I was still in my teens. Cancer. It was a sick bitch. Most days… I think the people we love, when they’re gone, it’s hard to not feel that.”

Arya watched the profile of his face. Such strong lines and broad features. It was marred with sadness of his own, and she wondered why she hadn’t picked up on it more before. Maybe she was too lost in her own grief to watch the world around her properly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged. “No bother. No one really wants to talk about it, right?”

When he met her eyes she felt connected to him, like they were on the same wavelength. She smiled at him, and he gave a grin back.

“We should go in the water.”

He gulped, almost to a comical degree. It made Arya giggle a little, the weight of the previous conversation slipping off of them easily. “I’m not much of a swimmer.”

Arya paused. “Are you… Are you afraid of water?” she asked.

“Not _afraid_ ,” he said carefully. The cigarette finally came to an end and he snubbed it out. “I just have proper respect for it. I know it could kill me, so I deal with it gingerly.”

“Gingerly?” Arya hopped up to her feet, wiping her hands off on her oversized shirt and offering it to Gendry. “Fuck that, we’re doing this.”

He grumbled and got down from the table. “Do we have to?”

“Yes!” She threw off her shirt and tugged him behind her, and soon they were a couple feet away away from Sansa and Jon who waved over at them. “Ok, so can you swim?”

“I can swim,” he replied defensively and a bit sullenly.

“Cool, then let’s just ease in.” Arya didn’t let go of his hand, tugging him in foot by foot. The bottom of the lake wasn’t slippery, but it was a bit rocky, so they took it cautiously. “You’re doing well.”

“This is the most compassionate you’ve ever been to me,” Gendry said as the water reached his waist. For Arya, it was already almost over all of her stomach, but she wasn’t bothered.

“Can you not swim?” Jon asked as he waded over, Sansa close on his heels.

“I can swim perfectly fine,” Gendry said. “I just… prefer not to.”

Jon snickered, and Sansa hit his arm. “Don’t be mean, Jon. We all know how scared of spiders _you_ are.”

He whipped his head toward her. “It was _one_ time, and you said we didn’t have to talk about—”

Sansa whipped some water into his face, stopping the conversation mid-way. They all paused for a moment, an amused snicker coming from Arya, before Jon was slapping water back at all of them. The moment dissolved into chaos.

Arya splashed harshly at Jon and Sansa before jumping at Gendry’s back, trying to knock him over in the water. He took a few steps backwards, one arm wrapped behind him to hold her there, but he remained standing tall.

“Oh, come _on._ Stop being such a giant for one second.” Arya clasped her legs more tightly around his torso. 

Gendry laughed, and Sansa pushed forward to push at Gendry in an assist. He just laughed harder, taking a step back from the pushing hands, and then held his arms out wide at his sides as Arya clutched onto his back.

“Retaliation,” he said before letting himself fall backward into the water.

Arya felt the crash of water at once, Gendry above her, and she pushed him away under water to sputter to the surface. Jon and Sansa, and even the crew still on the edge of the water, were chuckling about the whole thing. Gendry appeared from the water a few seconds later, and she couldn’t help but laugh, too. At the way his hair stuck to his forehead, the way everyone else laughed, his over enthusiastic smile.

“You punch me so much,” he said between a gasp as he recollected his breath. “This is really just evening out the playing field.”

Arya rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t disappear. Sometimes, life felt like one step forward, two steps back. Progress wasn’t linear. But standing in the water with them all, the laughter easing up into the air and surrounding them, she felt good. She felt like she was taking one huge step forward at least.

Sam and Gilly appeared at the shore, waving enthusiastically as they waddled in with a million bags. Jon jogged back through the water to reach them (Arya wasn’t even sure how someone could move so quickly through water, it didn’t seem possible).

Grabbing onto Sansa’s arm, Gendry pushing back through the water behind them, they walked back to the shore. In a rare moment of sisterly love, Arya tightened her hold.

"A good day, right?" Sansa said with a light smile. She stumbled over the rocks, and Arya tightened her grasp. 

She nodded.  _Great_ , Arya thought though she would never say it aloud.  _A great day._


	2. a u t u m n

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summer slips into fall

                                                          

* * *

* * *

The last dredges of Summer fell away into the chill of Fall, and Arya felt _alive._ Not to be crass (who was she kidding, she loved to be crass), but Autumn was her shit. It always had been—the cooler weather, the falling leaves, apple cider and pumpkin flavored everything. And on top of that, it was a _good_ season. There were no deaths and no birthdays to deal with. At least not ones she had to dread.

“Hold the fuck up,” Arya said. She was trying to cook a stir fry, but she didn’t know much about cooking. Mostly she was throwing a bunch of spices on vegetables and hoping for the best. Gendry stood at her side, clearly resisting the urge to jump in and take over. Hot Pie couldn’t handle being in the room while Arya tried to cook, but he had gone home for the weekend which meant Arya had no other choice but to brave the stove alone.

“Why are you so surprised?” he asked. As she attempted to flip her vegetables and chicken in the pan, letting a quarter of it fly off of the stainless steel and onto the stove, he groaned and shoved Arya to the side to take over. He could only handle so much, apparently.

Only for a moment was she bothered before she gave it up. She hopped up onto the counter, letting her legs dangle. “Your birthday is Halloween! That's so cool.”

He shrugged. “It’s whatever.”

“We’re throwing a party,” Arya said definitively.

“We’re really not.”

“We _have_ to.”

“Your stir fry is unsalvageable,” he said with a groan. “You’ve seasoned the shit out of it.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Okay, but we also really need to order something 'cause I’m starving.”

“Fine, get the takeout menus.” Arya hopped down from the counter. “Halloween is my happy day, okay? We’re doing something whether you acknowledge it’s your birthday or not. Please?”

Gendry sighed as he leaned his hip against the counter. “Fine. Fine. But there better be a lot of alcohol.”

Arya scoffed. “Obviously. Duh. Now let’s just order some chinese food.”

“We couldn’t have just done that before you smelled the whole apartment up?”

“I’m expanding my skills.”

Gendry tilted his head. “I mean… not very well.”

She stuck out her middle finger, despite a laugh forming on her lips. “Fuck off.”

He rolled his eyes, disappearing as the phone rang to place their order.

* * *

“Look!” Arya said. She held up a long purple belt, waiting for Sansa’s notice before throwing it in her direction. “You can’t just… not be Daphne with this opportunity right in front of you.”

She tilted her head to the side, surveying the belt as if it was something far more foreign. The shop around them was cluttered with odds and ends, vintage music filtering from a shitty sound system in the ceiling. Despite the strangeness of it, Sansa still seemed to blend in perfectly. “Hm. I could make that work, but you’d have to be Velma.”

“I don’t think I’m very Velma.” Arya flipped through a rack of Hawaiian shirts though there wasn't any true need for them. There was just something funny about their bright, chaotic patterns. She found an extra large one and threw it on over her t-shirt.

Meera appeared from behind a rack of pre-packaged sexy costumes, a pirate hat from who knew where tilted on her head. “Can I be Shaggy?”

“Yes!” Sansa exclaimed. “Come on, Arya. Don’t let me down.”

Meera nodded. “ _Us_ down. Halloween is all about being what you’re not, anyway. Who cares if you don’t feel very Velma? That's kinda the _point.”_

Arya sighed and rifled through the bin of glasses, pulling out a pair that were bulky and vaguely close to what she remembered from the cartoon. She popped them on her head. It felt silly. “Jinkies?”

Meera and Sansa high fived over the rack. A smile slipped onto Arya’s lips, and she almost wanted to fight it. Sometimes, despite its weight, being in pain was easier. Succumbing to the shit made life easier. She wasn’t accustomed to having to hope—it was fucking terrifying.

“I wish we had a Fred,” Sansa said. She turned around in the full-length mirror as she eyed the belt on her hips. It fit perfectly.

Meera rolled her eyes. “Who has ever needed a Fred?”

Arya eyed the three of them in the full length mirror and felt comfortable, happy, excited. “I agree with that,” she said. “The girls always made the shit happen, anyways. _We_ make shit happen.”

Chortling, Meera nodded along. “Wise words.”

* * *

The start of her Halloween obsession was hard to pinpoint. Arya had always loved dressing up as other people, slipping into other lives. She could live out any adventure on Halloween. There were no limitations to the possibilities of her life when she was dressed in costume. It filled her with an unusual buzz she almost would classify as excitement.

Moments earlier, Meera and Sansa had been inside her bedroom getting ready with her. The night of the party had slipped up quickly. One moment it was the vaguest possibility, and the next she was in an orange jumper and a red skirt with glasses perched on her nose. A few freckles Sansa had drawn on with her eyeliner pencil sat spread across her cheeks. Meera had rushed out when Bran had arrived, and Sansa slid out behind her to deal with a punch emergency.

Any moment, more people would be rushing through the doors for the get together. It was going to be perfect, or at least as close to it as possible. Arya was excited about slipping into the folds of another character’s life. She was happy to be a part of a day that made her in turn so happy. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but remember how a year earlier she and Robb had been together pre-gaming for another night with another party.

Maybe she should have noticed the reliance on substance to cope. She hadn’t known about the drugs, but she had seen the alcohol. How he was barely sleeping. How his seams were beginning to disintegrate. He was functioning, though, and that was enough for any of them to aspire to. If they could make it through the day, that seemed like enough for all of them.

“Ready for the best pub crawl we’ve ever experienced?” Robb had asked, a cigarette dangling from his lips unlit. He was dressed as a knight, and Arya was suited up similarly. Sansa would meet them at pub number two, her dress in place and Margaery by her side.

“That’s shooting a bit high, isn’t it?” Jon replied. He refused costume, opting instead for a simple black t-shirt and jeans. _People are going to imagine me as a million different costumes, Arya,_ he said, _and I won’t even have to bother._

“We have to shoot high,” Robb said. He reached out, tapping his shot glass against Arya’s. “What’s the point, otherwise. We just keep barreling through?”

Those words were the ones she would run through her head a million times on a loop months later, trying desperately to decipher his meaning. It had been so hopeful. He had seemed so good. It wasn’t exactly his fault, in the end, but she didn’t want to think about that now. She didn’t want to think about it ever if she didn’t have to.

“Arya!” Sansa called down the hallway, snapping her back to the present. “We need to get a picture of us before everyone arrives!”

“Coming!” Arya gave one last look in the mirror before exiting into the hallway. Only their closest friends were already there to help set up and drink early. Hot Pie had been anxiously making snacks all day, and she noticed that Sansa was furiously stirring the punch bowl as Arya exited out into the main area.

“Picture?” Meera asked as she looked away from Bran. She handed the camera over to him and made her way toward the other two girls.

Arya looked around as she felt her sister and her friend’s arms curl around her back. “Where’s Gendry?” she asked.

Meera shrugged. “He went out for a smoke. Or maybe to grab a few more beers. I can’t quite remember.”

“Smile,” Sansa said.

So Arya did.

* * *

The party was in full swing, and Arya couldn’t seem to find anyone she knew. Only a few minutes ago she had been talking with Sansa and Brienne, hadn’t she? And how had so many people gotten into their apartment? Sansa had invited some people from work and Hot Pie had helped invite people from Gendry’s life that Arya didn’t know, and there had to be friends of friends mixed in with that all but… Arya was lost. The costumes weren’t helping anything.

“Meera!” Arya said excitedly, noticing her roommate sitting across Bran’s lap. They looked as if they were arguing, though. Bran’s cheeks were red and her eyebrows were furrowed. They each had a mostly empty beer bottle in their hands, and Arya felt the weight of her own empty glass bottle in her palm. “Meera!”

She looked up and smiled. “Hey Arya, what’s up?”

“Where’s Gendry? Did he ever come back?” Arya asked. The party had been in full swing for more than an hour, and she hadn’t noticed the birthday boy. He had been fairly absent all day, now that she thought about it. She hadn’t gotten a chance to wish him well.

“He went to the porch,” Meera said. “Good luck.”

She wagged her eyebrows at Arya, who had no idea what _that_ meant. For someone dressed up as one of the mystery gang, she was having a frustratingly difficult time solving any mysteries today.

The porch held Jon, Sansa, and some of Jon’s friends from work. In the corner Margaery stood flirting with someone Arya did not know, though she seemed just as interested as they spoke back and forth. Yet, no Gendry.

“He’s out front,” Sansa said before Arya could ask. Sansa gave a soft smile, and Arya nodded in return.

Arya grabbed another beer before she made her way through the hallways and down the stairwell to the front of the apartment building. His back was to her as he sat on the stoop, a nearly empty box of cigarettes sitting to his left. Arya picked them up and sat down in their spot.

“Happy birthday,” she said to the street, unable to look to her side for some reason.

A drunken couple ran down the sidewalk, stopping briefly to make out against the ‘no parking’ sign. Gendry and Arya watched them drift out of sight, the only sound remaining the low beat of music from somewhere in the distance. Probably their own apartment.

Gendry reached to his side, and Arya handed him the cigarette pack. Finally making eye contact, she could see his eyes looked dark. His face was tired, dark undereye circles on prominent display. She hated to think it, but he almost looked fragile. It was a new look for him; different then the constant indestructible strength Arya was used to.

Only when the new cigarette was stuck between his lips, smoke puffing around him, did he open his mouth to speak. “The party is great. I just didn’t want to ruin it.”

Arya’s eyebrows crashed together. “Ruin what?”

He ran a hand over his forehead. “I haven’t done anything on my birthday in years that was _for_ my birthday. Growing up… it’s just…” He brought the cigarette back to his lips.

Arya felt as if she was watching something intimate. Like a secret she shouldn’t be privy to. “You don’t have to talk about it. I mean, you’ve seen me beat myself up just to avoid talking about feelings.”

The street lamp flickered and both of their faces turned to watch it go black before flickering back to life. Gendry chuckled. “You’re so loved, you know that?”

Arya met his gaze, uncertain to what he was getting at. His eyes trailed over her face. “That terrifies me,” she said.

“I wasn’t loved for a long time. I didn’t mean shit to anyone.” He reached out to grab the beer bottle from Arya, exchanging it for the cigarette. “It terrifies me, too.”

“When I freak out about it Sansa always tells me to remember that we can’t have the highs without the lows. I’m just so fucking tired of the lows, though. And losing people.” She threw the cigarette in front of them to die on the sidewalk.

“I don’t know,” Gendry said. His shoulder leaned into Arya’s, and she was comforted in his weight. “I spent years feeling neutral, trying to numb everything. So long I kinda forgot what anything felt like.”

Maybe it was the beer or the air of costume, but Arya didn’t feel the need to shift under his gaze. Something about the way he looked at her… like she was part of him feeling, like she could help _him._ She didn’t understand it. She couldn’t help herself, and she certainly wasn’t someone to give advice on how to navigate through feelings in this world. Stunted—that’s how she had always thought of herself in the wake of everything.

“You have a lot of people who love you, especially up at that party," she whispered. “You should lean in, not away.”

His hand reached up, hovering in the air around Arya’s cheek. What had he planned to do? Push the hair out of her face? Cup her cheek? It fell back to his lap, though their look didn’t break for another few seconds. Finally, he nodded and pushed himself back up to his feet before helping her up to her own.

“You only turn old as fuck every once in a while,” Arya said. “You should get drunk.”

“You’re such a brat.” But he laughed, and Arya felt light. She felt, dare she say it, alright.

* * *

Arya remembered roughly thirty or so minutes after that before the night turned into a blurring swirl of alcohol and poor decisions. By the time she woke up the next morning, her mouth tasted of rust and cool ranch doritos. She was in her own bed, Sansa draped next to her, with both of them still in full costume. After slipping into some sweats instead and chugging the water next to her bed, she waded cautiously out into her apartment.

Jon sat at the counter with a cup of coffee, typing away on Arya’s laptop.

“So, you stayed the night,” she said. “My head is fucking blaring.”

“You got very drunk,” Jon said. “We all did.”

 _We got so drunk,_ Robb had said a year ago. Arya had woken up on his couch to the smell of bacon. Robb never spent a day in his life hungover, which was one of the most frustrating things in the world. He could drink a whole winery and still wake up the next morning ready to go to work.

She took coffee and sipped on a mug, watching Robb scramble eggs. “You seem pretty chipper still.”

He shrugged. When he reached for his coffee, he spilled Jameson into the mug.

“Back drinking already?” Arya asked.

“Hair of the dog, right?” His face looked cautious, though.

Arya felt a pang in her chest thinking back on it now as she stood in the kitchen across from Jon. Their life wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Robb was still supposed to be there with all of them, drinking and laughing and making memories. Flirting with Margaery and fooling around with Theon and Jon.

If Arya thought about it too long, she became furious. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She had never wanted this life, and she was the one left with the burden of being alive. Keeping on the legacy. Making her family survive and her life worth living. Fuck them, she thought suddenly furious. Fuck all of them.

“You’re thinking of him,” Jon said. Arya nodded. “I thought about him all night,” he continued.

“Are you ever mad at him? Even though it’s not really his fault?” Arya asked. Jon nodded. “I just want to be able to live without memories of them all the time.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Jon asked. “I thought he would be at my wedding. I thought he’d be there for all of it. When I’m not mad, I feel like it’s my fault. And I know it’s not. It’s none of ours.”

“Thank you for still being here,” Arya said. “What the fuck would I do without you?”

“Without you and Sansa and Bran? I’d be fucking lost,” Jon said with a laugh. “I think if we really think about it, though, Robb would have wanted to be here, too.”

Arya nodded and swallowed, her throat dry. There was a dryness behind her eyes, too, but she blinked it back. “Fuck him, but honestly fuck the pills.”

Jon sighed. “Fuck the pills.”

* * *

Arya wasn’t there when Robb died, but she was pretty sure she knew exactly what it all looked like. She had spent enough depressed hours staring at the ceiling, picturing it minute by minute to feel as if she sat next to him when he overdosed.

It started with a call from the family lawyer about unfinished legal consequences with the estate. Then Robb coped with the loss of their family like he had been spiraling into for months—alcohol, cigarettes, and when everything else failed… pills. He wasn’t an addict, he would be the first to tell you that. He just needed to feel calmer, needed help with the depression and anxiety. He had no way of knowing that the pills he had gotten weren’t legit.

The TV played _The Office_ on Netflix, so that when Jon would find him hours later lying half on the couch and half on the floor with blue lips and no pulse, it was still streaming on the television. The pills had been marginally stronger than Robb had known, mixed with something Arya didn’t understand, so that what normally would have hit him slightly resulted in his heart stopping.

So, it wasn’t his fault, and they all knew it. Some days, Arya ached for him more than she could vocalize. Other days, she felt the betrayal deep as if it was a personal attack. She was, of course, the recipient of his last text message.

 _We will get it all figured out_ , he had said. Then he died, and the ‘we’ was obliterated.

* * *

“We’re making lemon bars!” Sansa called from her and Margaery’s kitchen. “Get in here and help.”

Arya always forgot how big and well-decorated their apartment was. They both had high-paying jobs and a desire to spend their money on the perfect aesthetic environment. This made no sense to Arya, though she loved the brief escape into cleanliness and full pantries.

“You know all I’m going to do is eat things and be a distraction, right?” Arya dipped her finger into whatever Sasna was mixing and popped it into her mouth before hopping up onto the counter. It was tart but sweet.

Sansa sighed. “Yeah, but it’s a nice distraction I guess.”

“You don’t sounds so sure.” Arya paused briefly hoping to eye something to snack on as the conversation continued. “Why exactly did you want to hang out today?”

“I wanted lemon bars,” Sansa said with an air of fake indifference, nonchalance. “And I wanted to talk to you about Gendry, I guess.”

Arya twisted on the counter so she could see the big living room windows where the light streamed in. Colorful leaves still decorated the trees, but more sat on the ground now then valiantly hung onto the branches. There had been a crisp jolt in the air when she walked part of her commute here. Fall had begun slipping into Winter, which Arya was not prepared for. Hopefully Fall could hold on for a few more weeks.

“He was fine after his birthday. He’s just weird about feelings and stuff. Having people in his life.” Arya shrugged, sensing something stronger in the air she didn’t want to tap into.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Sansa said. “Crazy.”

“I know where you’re going with this,” Arya said. “I know our collective tragedy failed to remove your infallible sense for romance and love, but that isn’t the case here. Two damaged people coming together doesn’t make something whole.”

“My therapist says accepting that is part of growing toward a capability for healthier relationships. You’re already flying through her steps,” Sansa said. One arm wrapped around the curd bowl while the other scooped it out onto the bars base layer. Finally, she took a lick from the spatula before passing it to Arya. “You know, the whole idea of needing to be perfect and loving yourself completely before you’re worthy of love is bullshit.”

Arya thought back to the day months ago when she had opened up enough to tell Gendry she was fucked up. And in return he had only admitted his own nature—he was fucked up, too. There had been a relief in admitting that and the response he had given. Gendry hadn’t come in trying to fix anything, merely sitting alongside her as they both worked toward… enlightenment? Stability? A sense of capability in moving forward? It didn’t quite matter, only that it had felt right and no one else had been able to meet her in that way.

Because Sansa provided her an opposite angle in their grief. And Jon was there no matter what time of the day it was. But Gendry simply offered himself. She hadn’t known how much better, how much fuller, her life could feel with that addition. Equal measure distraction and companionship.

“You think there’s something between Gendry and me?” Arya clarified.

Sansa nodded.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” she returned. Sansa rested her hip on the counter.

“Any love in the air?” Leaning into this conversation left a crawling sensation over Arya’s skin. Arya and Sansa had grown together in the last two years, but this was still so unpracticed. For most of her life, Arya had thought she was probably just not meant for the sister thing.

Sansa shrugged. “For one of the first times in my life, I’m actually not overly concerned with love. Believe it or not.”

Arya thought about reaching out with a hand in support, but she brought her clenched fists further into her stomach instead. Growing closer and growing more adept at feelings didn’t fundamentally change her. She was fairly certain that time would not change her adversity to certain physical intimacy.

“I’m here if you wanted to talk about it,” Arya finally settled on.

Sansa reached out to pat her shoulder two times before the arm fell back to her side. “I know how much that took for you to say,” she said. “So it’s extra appreciated. But, I have to say, if _anything_ goes on with you and Gendry I want to know.”

Looking at her sister, Arya felt something weird shift inside. For so long in her life she had thought Sansa was something otherworldly. They were different kinds of girls who deserved different things. Arya wanted to be tough and sharp, and as her life became more tragic and fell apart, it seemed simpler to hold onto that tightly. Sansa was another beast entirely.

She had strong intentions and a path. Her plan was well organized and color coded. She was the type of girl things fell into place for, Arya had thought. But they had both been hit with tragedy, Jon included. Sansa had shifted into a warrior in her own right; Arya didn’t like to openly admit the pride she felt for her sister these days, but she couldn’t help the extreme sense of honor she felt for someone who could take the tragedy in her life and try to keep pushing onward. It seemed as if she had never lost hope for crafting some sense of happy, though it could have something to do with the aid therapy too.

Arya still shivered at the idea of having to tell a complete stranger everything in her life. The idea of divulging personal feelings and experiences made her skin crawl and her stomach ache. She would rather internalize, rather implode, then ever have to hand that weight over willingly.

The concept of _anything happening between her and Gendry_ seemed strange and large and terrifying. Vocalizing all of that, though, was impossible.

“I’ll try my best,” Arya said. “It’s all…” Up in the air? Unknowable? Some mix of emotions Arya was purposefully avoiding? All of it, really.

Sensing her struggle, Sansa smiled. “That’s all I can ask.”

* * *

Arya dropped her keys on the counter. Her coat she threw on the table. By the time she had made it around the corner, she was able to see to the living room. Her body was exhausted, but luckily there was Gendry. Hot Pie and Meera were both lovely, but they required energy. Somehow, Gendry was usually as easy as could be. It was the feeling of slipping into comfortable pajamas the same way being by herself felt, but with the added personality and distraction that seemed to provide escape.

“What are you doing?” Arya asked.

He shrugged. “Nature documentaries and shit?”

When she ran over to jump on the couch, he seemed taken aback. “You seem confused,” she said as she burrowed her head under a pillow. It also brought her closer to Gendry, who laughed and swatted her away.

“Well, what do _you_ want to do?” Gendry asked.

“I get a say? Since when are we suddenly hanging out?” she replied. Begrudgingly, she sat back into a normal position. This way she could see his face and avoid her sudden surplus of capability for physical intimacy

“Meera and Hot Pie are both on dates.”

“Hot Pie, too?” Arya asked.

Gendry laughed. “No, he’s at work. But it seemed easier to simplify until we got stuck in this fun conversation. It’s the same as the last three Fridays so I’m not sure why we’re getting all hung up on it.”

She just hadn’t thought about it until he mentioned it. It was less a thought-out decision and more of a slip into simplicity. It was, even better put, leaning in. Because Gendry was one of the most important developments for her in the last few months. He was easy to fall back into. Maybe it was the connection they both shared for darkness and a loneliness that bonded them so tightly. Maybe it was something Arya wasn’t capable of putting her finger on yet.

Either way, he mattered. He had come to matter so much Arya had trouble coming to terms with it.

She swallowed and smiled. He tilted his head and raised a brow.

“You good?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m good. Now let’s get some food and start a Lord of the Rings marathon because I can not stand the thought of anything else at the moment.”

“As m’lady commands,” he joked. She hit his calf with her foot on the couch, and they shared a smile.

* * *

The rain began to freeze as it hit the side of the building to Arya’s left. Another week or two, and she was screwed. The snow would start falling, the sun would go into permanent hiding, and Arya was going to be left dealing with her seasonal depression right on top of everything else in her life. Goddamn seasons.

Bran answered the apartment buzzer on the second ring. Feeling slightly out of breath from the light jog through the weather, she went straight to the elevator.

“I have popcorn already made!” he called from the living room. A black and white movie was on the screen when Arya went to sit down.

“Something crazy on deck?” Arya asked as she shoveled her hand into the bowl. She had come straight from a training session, and she had barely eaten all day.

“Another classic,” he said. Shifting in his chair, he finally looked over at her fully. “I wanted to tell you something first, though.”

Through a mouthful of popcorn, Arya asked, “What?”

“Meera and I kinda broke up?” His face blushed.

Arya gulped, the popcorn scratching her throat as she dry swallowed it down. “Wait, what?”

“And it was because Jojen and I…”

“ _What?”_ Arya repeated. It wasn’t that Bran was into men, because Arya could not have given less of a shit. She had  always known he was pretty much game for whatever came his way (just with a healthy serving of awkward on the side), but this whole situation seemed entirely bizarre.

Bran leaving Meera for her brother. She could only imagine how Meera was responding to this right now back at their apartment. She could only imagine how this had happened at _all._

“You would imagine Meera is mad right now? But also she actually took it much better than expected.” Bran spoke sheepishly, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“Really?” Arya had a hard time believing that. She had witnessed Meera only a few weeks earlier get drunk to avoid her frustration over getting her parking spot stolen by a mediocre white dude at her office, which had ended in her monologuing about how men in undeserved positions of power were the biggest strain on resources this world had to offer.

It had all been fairly intense.

“She was frustrated, but I think we fell into complacency.”

“Huh. This is a lot to process,” Arya said. They sat in their silence for a few minutes, thinking along to the crunch of popcorn. “And you and Jojen are a thing? Really?”

Bran shrugged. He’d been a lot worse with feelings ever since their father had died. More closeted, more willing to push them to the side and respond in a robotic complacency of his own.

“I thought he had a boyfriend,” Arya answered.

“It’s truly a long story,” Bran said. “The condensed version results in him making me feel a certain way. Making me feel like I feel at all, I guess. I’ve gotten so good at pushing everything to the side. I got used to a basic level of nothing? A sort of gray feeling.”

“I can understand that.”

“I figured you would best of all,” Bran said. He sighed. “Sansa is going to be so pissed at me. She really liked Meera.”

“I mean, she’s still my roommate and my friend. So, she isn’t exactly going anywhere, right?”

Bran nodded. “I think her and I figured it all out. If this hasn’t plummeted her relationship with her own brother, hopefully everything with the rest of us is fine.”

Arya thought about this whole wild story, happening in a life that was so close to her own. She hadn’t had a single idea, though, and it was so bizarre when she contemplated all the lives that were happening all at once. All the things that were going on outside of her eyeline.

“Hey. I know I don’t say it,” she began, drawling the words out, “but I love you. And I’m glad you’re figuring it all out.” Arya nodded before stealing the bowl of popcorn back from his lap.

“I hope I haven’t fucked anything up for you.”

“Happiness is messy, right?” she asked. She wasn’t really sure if that was true, but it seemed like it might be.

Robb had seeked happiness in a bottle of pills and the bottom of a bottle. Sansa had seeked it through never stopping, falling into the old tropes of her life. Arya had… not seeked it. Been afraid of it. Yet, they all moved forward. They all tried to find a more stable sense of normalcy in everything.

“That’s true,” he said. “Out of anyone, us Starks were given the shittiest hand of cards. It’s a fucking miracle we’re still here at all.”

“Start the movie,” she said. “That’s enough real talk for now.”

He nodded, pressed play, and they fell into the comfortable silence.

* * *

“Can you believe they broke up?” Arya asked as she pushed their cart.

Gendry had woken up with a desire to make a recipe his mom had frequented sporadically in his youth. Arya was obviously game at the idea of someone else making her a meal.

“I thought they worked pretty well together, so yeah. Though, Meera does not seem upset at _all.”_

 _"_ She’s rebounding hard.” Arya grabbed a box of Lucky Charms from the aisle and threw it in the cart before he could tell her no. “Lots of randoms currently coming in and out. Though, since you don’t work normal hours maybe you haven’t noticed.”

“Excuse me, my hours are _much_ more normal than yours. Sometimes, I barely see you. You are a mystery among men.”

“Huh,” Arya said. “It almost sounds like you miss me? And you want to be around me? Is this… what affection feels like?”

“You’re the fucking worst.” He groaned, and they wandered down the dairy aisle before Gendry stopped to buy too much cheese. “Is affection so bad, Arya Stark? Are you above it?”

Arya wanted to joke it off, but something in her felt like she had to answer honestly. It was what he deserved. It was what she was working toward, really. Wasn’t it? Some sense of a handle on the normal aspects of life. She wanted to live without feeling like she was dying.

“I’m trying not to be,” she said. “Having feelings is the worst, isn’t it?”

His eyes trailed over her face, a container of ricotta steady in his hands. “Yeah,” he said a little too softly, “it can be. Though, sometimes it’s almost amazing.”

“Sap,” she said to break the moment, hitting his shoulder.

“Brat,” he responded as he normally did.

And in it Arya felt comfort. She felt loved. She felt like she was moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally no excuse for how long this has taken. the next chapter should at least be up sooner than the last (especially considering it's already written). thank you for your patience <3
> 
> find me on tumblr @clarkescrusade and on twitter @anniebibananie


	3. w i n t e r

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the wintery breeze wipes away the leaves

                                                        

* * *

* * *

The hardest part was all the days that used to mean things—birthdays usually the hardest. A signature of another year come and gone, another year lost. So many more days separated from the person you remembered. Arya hated to think about how the memories she had of her lost family were frozen in time. They kept silently still as she continued to pulse forward.

This year winter was a whole new torture. Because on top of everything else, she was coming to terms with the fact that part of her loved her roommate, Gendry Waters, with too much of herself to be strictly safe.

It had hit her when they were walking through the animal shelter. Earlier, it had started as a grocery run which turned into a stop at the local ice cream spot which ended up with them licking ice cream cones and petting puppies. It was moments like these which reminded Arya life was worth living.

“What if we could sneak a puppy in the apartment,” Gendry said in more of a statement than a question.

“I would just worry they wouldn’t get the attention they deserved?” Arya asked before licking up the side of her chocolate cone. "They need to be properly loved."

“There are times I think you’re the toughest person I know, and then I realize how fucking soft you are inside that,” he said with a laugh. “So a cat?”

And the thing was, there had been a solid moment where Arya hadn’t overreacted. Then, everything about what Gendry had said was too much. He thought she was soft? He acknowledged her part in his future? They were looking at pets together as if it was a simple step of their path.

Arya, goddamnit, kinda loved him? And the realization had been enough to throw everything off in her life.

“Maybe a cat,” she had said instead of letting him know she wanted to actually do things like this for… a good chunk of her future. She wanted him around forever. Whenever he was by her side life seemed a bit more bearable. Goddamnit. She had really been hoping to avoid the emotional things for a while.

That had been only two weeks ago, and now when Arya stepped outside she was used to the chill and potential for snow. December was dangerous. And the anxiety of finding the perfect Christmas gifts on top of the anxiety of loving Gendry on _top_ of the sadness that always took over around Rickon and her father’s birthdays was… too much.

Arya was a novice when it came to this whole _having emotions_ and _attempting to cope_ situation. Most of her life had only involved pushing things to the side.

“You’ve been acting kinda weird lately,” Hot Pie suggested as he created a marinade for some steak. “Is there anything you wanted to talk about, maybe?”

“No,” Arya said. “The winter is hard for me, is all.”

Hot Pie nodded. “You know I’m here.”

* * *

 “It only makes sense,” Jon said. “Though, I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want obviously.”

“I just… I have no idea what I would even talk about.”

“Oh, you mean besides losing a half of your family in the last two years? About having romantic feelings for your roommate? An anxiety regarding human connection?” Jon shrugged and threw a hand up into the air. “You totally have nothing to talk about.”

“I get that, but,” Arya said before pausing with a sigh. They sat at a diner which sat between their workplaces. Usually, it was too difficult to get together with both of their short lunch breaks, but today their schedules had aligned perfectly. Not to mention, Arya felt like she hadn’t seen him in forever. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“You sure that’s what you’re afraid of?” Jon asked. “Or are you afraid that it might actually help?”

“I think both of those options are equally terrifying,” she said decisively. It wasn’t as if Arya had ever been good with talking about her feelings. She’d much rather punch it out or run it out or pretend it didn't exist at all. Sansa had always wanted to talk about everything when they were little, and Arya just wanted… silence.

But her internalization had only gotten worse with the tragedies of the last few years. Every little thing became something to hide away, push back and repress until she was catatonic in her bedroom. Jon wasn’t wrong that she needed to try something new. It was simply terrifying, and she didn’t know how to move onto being someone new without losing everything she had been in the past.

“You like therapy?” Arya asked. It felt like an admittal of defeat to consider it at all.

Her father had done everything to raise someone capable of fighting her own battles. Her mother had taught her how to wield herself like a blade and come out stronger from every hopeless battle. _Isn’t there strength in admitting you needed help?_ Sansa would say.

Jon shrugged. “Like? No. Sometimes it’s pulling out teeth, but I’ll admit it helps. You know Sansa, Bran, and I are always here for you, but there are things you can talk about maybe easier with them? And they can help you come up with solutions, too.”

“I’m not saying yes,” Arya said after a beat. Though, Jon nodded in response as if he was simply placating her. “I’m going to think about it.”

He twisted his hair out of his face and into a low bun. “It’s your life, Arya. I just want you to be as happy as possible as you live it.”

* * *

When Ned had died, Arya was sure she had lost everything. The way Arya and Sansa had witnessed the first crack in their family, how they had to try to work past the nightmares and realities they didn’t want to face. It was unbearable. Their _father_ , gone before they had gotten all of the wisdom they desperately wanted from him.

The thing was, there were ways to make it through. Arya still had the rest of her family, and she had school to focus on. There were grieving family members and a semblance of normalcy. Brienne would let her come into the bar to chat or simply drink, never berating her for sipping on pints and staring at the television screen for hours if that's what she needed. It seemed as if there might someday be a way through.

But then her mother and Rickon had died, and she realized that there had never actually been any return to normalcy to look forward to. Waking up to find their bodies were burnt to a crisp in a car crash of epic proportions, their bodies only identifiable through dental records, was devastating. It was soul crushing.

There would never be normal again, and it had all been a fallacy they expertly crafted in an attempt to keep moving forward. She shouldn’t play at pretend. They shouldn’t try to be anything like they were because they so horrendously weren’t.

And when Robb had gone… it was more destructive than she could imagine. Arya’s body felt past the breaking point. She had been broken and snapped back into place more times than any person should have to work through. There were just safety pins and school glue holding her together.

She didn’t want to feel again. Feeling felt so dangerous. So she had moved into a flat with strangers. Goddamn life, though, for sticking her with the people she needed. Goddamn life, though, for sticking her with a man who could love her for who she was and who she wasn’t.

* * *

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Meera said as she bundled further into her coat. There was a fluffy purple scarf sticking out of the top and wrapped around the lower part of her face, but Arya didn’t make fun of her appearance.

She certainly didn’t look any better with her silly black gloves and knitted cap. Compared to the two of them, Hot Pie and Gendry looked freezing. They visibly shivered, despite being the ones to wrangle them outside.

“It’s flat tradition!” Hot Pie said. “Doesn’t matter who occupies the flat, they are integrated into the game.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “It’s not a game. It’s a snowball fight—children play it. I’m fairly sure I can handle it.”

“It’s like capture the flag! There are many layers to consider,” Hot Pie argued.

Meera shook off the comment with a sigh. “Girls against guys?”

Arya had been worried Meera was going to retaliate or get mad after Bran, and she had braced for it. Meera’s friendship had come to mean a lot to Arya over the last half a year—it was moments of potential loss like that which had kept her fearful of forming bonds at all. But Meera had been great at distinguishing between Bran and Arya, slowly coming around to the ability to have everyone in one room together.

If anything, she had rebounded with a stronger lust for love and life than she had before. It didn’t make sense to Arya who had cut herself as far off from any connection as possible. Arya realized she was staring at Meera, but the other girl gave her a conspiratorial smile and shake of her head.

Hot Pie and Gendry shared a look as if they were housing a secret and nodded. “Deal,” Gendry agreed. “Ready…Set…Go!”

Hot Pie and Gendry reached into the pockets of their jackets to pull out pre-formed snowballs and threw them with determination in their eyes. Arya yelped in surprise before laughing, jogging after Meera to find protection in the park they played in.

“Half a minute to place your flags! No peeking!” Hot Pie yelled joyously.

They had the Eastern side of the park, which provided far less hiding or landscape. Now that Arya thought on it, she was sure it was an intentional decision on the boy’s part to keep strictly planted where they had been.

Meera nodded to a small pile of rocks near the big oak, and Arya stuffed their dinner-napkin-flag into the crevice with only a corner still peaking out visible.

“What’s our plan of attack?” Meera asked as they moved to a nearby snow pile to hide and forge snowballs.

“We need to get them away from the flag with some sort of distraction, or at least one of them.”

“You’re faster,” Meera said with certainty and a nod. “I’ll lure Hot Pie away and you go in for the prize. The faster we decimate their asses the faster Hot Pie will make us hot cocoa. Ready?”

Arya nodded. They flew out from opposite sides of the barrier all at once, and though they both threw a cautionary snowball there was no response. The boys were nowhere to be seen.

This didn’t stop Meera, who kept running out toward the boys’ side. Hot Pie appeared near some benches, pummeling her with snowballs and chasing her away. Arya sprinted up the other side, keeping an eye out for Gendry.

She heard a loud crack from behind her and saw Gendry drop from a tree not too far from where they had planted the flag.

“Fuck,” Arya said, doubling back to chase him down. The snowballs she still held in her arms and stuffed into her pockets flew at Gendry with competitive fury.

His laugh was boisterous, broken up with rough breaths as he ran. He had longer legs, but Arya was lighter and able to push through the feathery snow much faster. With him a few feet away from the flag, she took her chance and dove toward his legs.

Her arms wrapped around his calves and brought him down. With his brief moment of confusion and need to catch his breath, Arya was able to position herself to hold him down. She grabbed a handful of snow and plowed it over his head.

“Oh my god,” he said with a laugh. He twisted them around, the two of them fighting for dominance as they rolled through the snow.

She was able to get some snow down his shirt which lead to a yelp. With her legs straddling his waist, she had to hope she was able to hold him down long enough for Meera to pull through.

As he looked up at her through snowy eyelashes, though, she realized how close they were. How beautiful Gendry looked with the glistening white snow around him. She wondered if his lips were chilled or still warm the way they looked all pink and puffy.

“You probably can’t hold me for very long,” he said. Though, he wasn’t attempting to push her off.

She shook her head. “Probably not, but I’m a fighter.”

The right corner of his mouth quirked upward. “That I have known to always be true.”

“Why do you like winter so much, Gendry?” she asked.

This time, his whole mouth twisted into a sweet smile. “It was the best time of the year growing up. Sometimes, I can almost still believe in magic.” Sunlight reflected off of the snow in his eyelashes.

“For someone who looks so goddamn tough,” Arya whispered, unable to help herself, “you are pretty fucking soft.”

“Stealing my lines now, are we?” he asked, but his voice got caught in her throat. “Arya…” A hand reached up, and this time it made contact.

It felt so frequently as if they were hovering somewhere between touch. His hand near her cheek. Hers next to his forearm. Shoulders grazing lightly. But for a moment he was fearless in breaking through their barriers, and his hand went to cup her cheek. It was chilled and rough, but she loved it.

Surprising even herself, Arya felt something prick behind her eyes. She wanted to lean into this touch. She wanted to give herself into the feeling of warmth that radiated between them. But with that warmth was danger and love and feelings she had never learned how to deal with.

Her mother had died before she ever got to talk to her about a boy that mattered. Arya had never felt that loss so fully in her heart.

“You’re not even trying,” she said in a feeble attempt to get the game moving. Competition was easy. Feelings, Gendry looking at her in this all-encompassing way was… not.

“No,” he said with such surety a shiver ran up Arya’s spine, “I’m just biding my time.”

She was too aware that maybe he wasn’t talking about the game. His hand fell back to the snow with a light crunch, and Arya wished she could run somewhere else where he wasn’t still looking at her. Or maybe backward into time when she thought these feelings were nothing for her. This wasn’t the girl she was. Love wasn’t hers.

“I got it!” Meera screamed from the distance as a huffing Hot Pie valiantly ran after her.

Arya rolled off of Gendry and watched her teammate stroll over the line. “We did it!”

Gendry sighed. “Hot Pie did not follow through on the plan.”

“I have a feeling neither did you,” Arya said, avoiding his gaze. She could feel it on her face, though, the same way she still felt his hand on her cheek.

Meera came up in front of the two of them, tugging both up to their feet. Hot Pie smiled as if he hadn’t lost, talking about the special chocolate he had picked up to make a _totally out of this world_ cocoa.

“You good?” Gendry asked as he held the front door open for her minutes later.

Arya nodded. She had no idea what she would say, anyways.

* * *

When she entered the bar, Arya wasn’t all that surprised to find it nearly empty. It was a three o’clock on a Thursday, and the snow was falling fairly heavily outside. Christmas was fast approaching, which meant a swell of emotion that was becoming increasingly difficult to bear.

What she really needed, though, was Brienne. Brienne would understand this particular issue better than anyone else. But as Arya perched herself up onto a stool, it was not Brienne who stood behind the bar.

“Oh,” Arya greeted as Jaime rounded the corner.

“It’s greetings like that which leave me favoring your sister,” Jaime said. He grabbed a pint glass and filled it with Guinness. “A little early to be drinking, perhaps?”

She took a gulp of the beer, wiping the minute bit of foam off of her lips with the back of her hand. Jaime watched the action and frowned.

“I was hoping to speak to your better half,” Arya said. “I thought she was supposed to be in here.”

“Usually, yes,” Jaime said. “The snow slowed her down. I’d give it ten or so minutes.”

Arya spun the pint in between her hands, feeling the condensation slick her palms. She took another drink, unsure how to proceed. Jaime stayed where he was, unmoving.

“Was there something I could help you with?” he asked.

“Kinda a Brienne issue,” Arya said. “Though the thought is appreciated and all that.”

He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. It was really too well styled to make any sense to Arya how Brienne fell for such a pretty boy.

“You know,” Jaime began as if Arya wasn’t actively rolling her eyes right back at him, “Brienne wouldn’t give me the time of day when we first met. Rightfully so, I was a right prick. I mean, I still am on the regular, but believe it or not I was worse then.”

“How does this pertain to me?” Arya asked. “I feel like we skipped over a portion of the conversation where I asked for this story.”

Jaime poured himself his own pint and leaned back to take a sip. “People like drinking, and some people even like bars, but most people come here to forget. Could be a number of things—finance, family, jobs, love. Brienne wouldn’t be your first choice to talk about family, and Sansa is most definitely not your first choice to talk about love. It’s a simple game of logic.”

“How exactly does that end in you telling me about the first time you and Brienne met?”

Jaime shrugged. “My family hated her, besides Tyrion, but Tyrion liked most of anything at that point as long as he could see it through the bottom of a liquor bottle. I’d never met anyone who thinks the way she does, who was strong like her, who made me feel like I could actually be better…” he trailed off.

They sat in their silence for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Sometimes, we get people in our lives who seem to fit in all wrong even if they’re right. We don’t get to choose who we love or when or where.”

Arya almost wanted to smile. “I’ve always thought the part of you that loved Brienne was your most redeemable trait.”

Jaime toasted his pint toward her. “Believe it or not, that’s one thing we’ve always agreed on.”

They tapped glasses, and the front door flew open with a gust of snow and a red-cheeked Brienne.

“Arya, sorry it took me so long. Just give me a minute to toss my stuff in the back,” she said before disappearing again.

Jaime took out a bowl, dumping some pretzels into it, and slid it across the bar toward her before turning around to organize the liquors. They were both bad at thank you’s anyways.

Halfway through the bowl and three quarters through the beer, Brienne appeared from the back renewed and de-snowed. Instead of sliding behind the bar, she went to sit next to Arya.

“What’s going on?” Brienne asked, getting straight to the point.

Arya appreciated it. “I needed to ask you something. I guess…” Her skin itched. Her cheeks flushed from alcohol and a creeping, crawling feeling. “Well, do you think some people aren’t meant for love?” she asked. “What if they’re built too harsh. What if it’s not their path.”

Brienne paused but didn’t shift her gaze, instead scanning over the planes of Arya’s face. “Do _you_ think you’re not capable of love?”

She shrugged. “No. But that doesn’t mean I’m meant to be.” Arya scratched at the back of her neck, wishing desperately her hair wasn’t itching her there. She already felt uncomfortable inside, she didn’t need it externally as well. “I’ve always felt close to you Brienne, because I never felt like I fit in. We were tough, brash, and unladylike, and that didn’t make us better just different. I think about love, though, really think about it and…”

“You’ve never loved anyone before now in your life?” Brienne asked, and Arya shook her head no. “I loved a boy when I was still in primary school. I was gawky, weird, and knew too much about military strategy from my dad, so you can imagine I wasn’t all that popular. I was a lot. But this boy… he stood up for me, made me feel normal.”

“Did he love you back?”

Brienne shook her head no. “He was gay, for one. And I was definitely not his type, secondly. It made me feel silly for a while to think I could have been someone loved. I realized, though, that loving made me stronger in a lot of ways. I’ve always fought because of what was behind me, and for what I thought I deserved in front of me.”

“So, you think I should love to have something to fight for?”

“No. I think you should be in love with Gendry because you love him. And loss doesn’t define you. It’s part of your story, not all of it.”

Arya groaned, frustration threatening to topple over. She had never felt so fragile and vulnerable before, so like she could burst at any moment. Whatever was happening to her as of late was incomprehensible. “How do I even know how to love? What if I make it all worse, make him worse?”

Because yes Arya was sad, and she couldn’t stand the thought of losing more people she cared about. But also, she couldn’t stand the thought of making someone else’s life worse. Gendry had been dealt his own shitty hand, and Arya cared too much about him to worsen that.

“You don’t have it in you, Arya,” Brienne said. “Jaime and I? We look like two people who would kill each other. Hell, we’d done damage to people in the past. But when we come together it works. Believe it or not, Arya, just because you’ve been fighting and surviving for all of your life doesn’t mean you don’t get to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t know how to be that person. I don’t know how to be…” she trailed off, thinking her words over before it sprung to the tip of her tongue, “soft.”

Brienne smiled. “The great thing? It’s already there inside of you, Arya. You’ve been soft the whole time. People have just been complimenting you on how sharp and hard you are for so long you never realized.”

Arya finished off her drink. _Fuck,_ she thought. “Fuck,” she echoed aloud.

Brienne laughed. “Yeah. A lot of the time love feels like that.”

“I’m so fucked, Brienne.” Arya didn’t know if her words had more to do with her life or her feelings or the spiraling, chaotic edge of darkness she had felt creeping around her as she faced her anxiety and fear of commitment head on.

Brienne gave a gruff pat to Arya’s shoulder. “You want another drink? I have to do inventory, but you’re welcome to stick around as long as you want.”

Arya nodded. Jaime came and refilled her glass and then the bowl of pretzels. When she made eye contact with him, he grimaced. At least they were in the same boat on the whole feelings thing.

* * *

Arya dreamt of the day her father died again. It was strange how it was him and that moment she came back to most often. Maybe it had something to do with the way Arya and Sansa’s hands had felt clasped tightly together, his blood drying between their palms.

There was nothing quite as bonding as standing together in a shower to scrub away your father’s blood, clothes sucking into your skin. Probably the reason Arya still struggled with her and Sansa’s relationship was because it had stemmed from death. There were moments it felt the only reason they were close at all was because they shared that trauma. It didn’t make their bond any less, but… Arya struggled knowing the before and after of their lives had changed everything.

The dream, though, was less clear than it normally was. This time, Arya swapped back and forth from where she had actually been when her father died and the shooter. The metal was solid in her hands, the most solid thing in the whole dream.

Right as her finger plucked the trigger, she swapped again but this time she was where her father stood. As the bullet spiraled toward her chest, she startled awake.

Her comforter had fallen to the floor in her scuffle. Despite the chill in their apartment as snow fell outside, sweat dripped down her back.

Arya wanted to talk to her dad. Arya wanted to go check in on Rickon to make sure he was still fast asleep, too innocent to have nightmares. Arya wanted to smoke a cigarette on her porch with Robb. The night air static and crisp as they inhaled and exhaled in mutual silence.

She wanted to be normal. Even if it was for just a second, she wanted to release the weight from her chest and feel like she could breath. Discontent slithered inside of her torso, making her uneasy. Arya slipped into a pair of joggers and grabbed her pack of cigarettes before making her way out of her room and toward the porch.

“Hey.”

Arya startled and dropped the cigarettes. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out here,” she said as she scooped them back up.

Gendry was leaned back on one of the deck chairs, only in a pair of boxer briefs and a tee shirt despite the chill of the air. His face looked tired but kind as he gave her a brief smile and chuckle.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Arya sat down in a chair a foot or so away, offering the box to him which he gratefully pulled one from. “We should really stop smoking at some point,” she said.

“But then how would we ever get lovely private conversations like this?”

“You have a point,” Arya said with a self-deprecating laugh. When she looked at Gendry, her heart clenched. He looked back at her, and she could have sworn for a moment there was something glistening in his eyes.

“Nightmare?” he asked. She shrugged. “Yeah, me too.”

They smoked their cigarettes in mutual silence, and Arya was thankful for it. She didn’t want to talk right now. If anything, she simply wanted to forget. Focusing on everything that was raging on within her was… so absolutely terrifying. It bothered her because she had never been scared, always put on a brave face.

_You deserve love,_ Brienne had said. Arya looked at Gendry and felt love. She wanted to love him. She wanted to be someone capable of loving him in the way he deserved. He made her feel better, even if for brief moments. And when he couldn't do that he was more than willing to stay by her side anyways.

Only halfway through her cigarette, Arya snuffed it out in their ashtray. “I think I should try to go back to sleep or I’ll be fucked for tomorrow morning.”

Gendry groaned. “Yeah, same.”

As Arya stood up, she watched Gendry do the same. He was waiting for her to go back into the house to follow, but instead she turned and stared at him. His eyebrow quirked up in confusion and query.

“Arya?” he asked.

“I just…” She didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted. _You deserve love._ “I don’t want to sleep because I’m afraid it’s going to come back, and I don’t want to not do anything because I just keep _thinking_ about it.”

“Well, what are you suggesting?” His voice was slow and sleepy and confused.

Arya bit her lip, contemplating for a moment if she was going to be this person. Reaching up, she pushed onto her tiptoes and tried to grab for his neck. Gendry stepped back.

“Arya, we can’t.”

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her. The breeze rattled her bones, hair standing on end on her arms.

“Oh,” she said.

He stepped forward. “I don’t mean it like that, but this can’t be a I need to forget thing. It needs–”

“No, I get it,” Arya said, nodding furiously. She felt hot shame in the back of her throat. In that moment, she couldn’t stand him looking at her. “I need to get back to bed.”

“Arya…” He sighed, reaching out for her. When she turned he eyed her, ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and tried to offer touch. She stepped minutely back, because if he touched her she thought she might break. “Please don’t let this make you spiral.”

Arya nodded before slipping back into the apartment and her room, needing the silence and the privacy to process. He didn’t want her. This whole time she had been processing if she deserved to love or be loved, if she would ruin him, but when it came down to it she had never contemplated he would simply not want her back.

All those looks, those touches, those moments… how had she fooled herself to think she deserved happiness in that way? Arya went to her dresser and reached toward the back, eyeing the bottle of pills she had once stolen from Robb’s bathroom cabinet as they cleaned his apartment.

Opening the top, she spilled a few into her palm. Just like that she could slap them back and swallow and feel the light relief Robb craved. Maybe it would do the trick or maybe she would screw herself over too—and then there were three.

Her hand shook as she stared at the jagged little pills. She let them drop to the floor before she threw off her clothes, sliding naked between her sheets. The sensation made her feel grounded, trying to hold onto the feeling of being here and not slipping into the void. It had been months since she had needed to cope like that, and she realized she didn’t _want_ to. Not that she had ever wanted to in the past, but it had been easier than confronting her feelings.

It was growth. Maybe? She wasn’t sure, and the onslaught of feelings did the trick as a sedative. Her problems would still be there in the morning.

* * *

On Rickon’s birthday, Arya didn’t leave bed. She wrapped the comforter around her tighter, kept the lights dim, and watched _Quest for Camelot_ on repeat until her eyes were too dry to blink. It had been his favorite movie.

_You remind me of her,_ he would say as he looked at her with the littlest bit of awe. _You’re so strong, like a knight!_

“Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday,” she whispered to herself like a song, like a mantra, as she willed her body to sleep. _You should be here_ , she thought but didn’t say.

* * *

Across the room Sansa stretched, her hair slicked back in a nice ponytail. Arya’s hair stuck sweatingly to her forehead as she punched at the bag in front of her. Her fists ached, but she couldn’t seem to relent.

“He loves you,” Sansa said for the third time that day.

“No, he clearly doesn’t.” Arya should have known it would be a mistake to mention anything to her.

“He loves you,” Sansa repeated as she stood up and made her way to the punching bag. She grabbed it for support as Arya continued to release her frustration. “He doesn’t want it to be a fling or for you to forget about him. Have you thought maybe he’s scared, too?”

Arya sighed and ran the back of her hand against her forehead to wipe away the sweat and clumps of hair stuck in her eyeline. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do anything.”

“You’re not imploding. That's a good step,” Sansa said. “Healing isn’t forgetting about them. You know that, right?”

Logically, Arya did. But it felt like betrayal. Happiness, seeking health, and everything associated with it felt like a step toward forgetting where she came from.

“I’m working on it.”

* * *

 Christmas crept up without warning. It felt like a blink of the eye between counting down the days and then… it was there. Arya woke to the smell of french toast and coffee.

“Good morning!” Hot Pie cheered as she made her way through the hall toward the kitchen. “Here’s some coffee.”

Arya took the cup gratefully.

“I know you have to go see your family shortly,” he said, “but there are some presents for you in the living room. Meera wanted to go get breakfast with Jojen so she won’t be back for a few hours, but Gendry might be around. He was smoking last I saw.”

“Thanks, Hot Pie,” Arya said. She sucked in a breath. “I know I don’t say it a lot, but–”

“You don’t have to.” He waved her off. “I already know.”

She nodded and reached out to pat his shoulder. “And I love you for that.”

Hot Pie beamed. “Arya Stark loves me? Well, aren’t I special?”

Arya held her mug in between her hands, feeling the warmth in her fingers and the steam across her face. She smiled, gave him another nod of acknowledgement, and walked into the living room.

Hot Pie had done a wonderful job decorating the apartment without getting too crazy. The tree was perfectly trimmed and lightly decorated with red and gold, a few pictures of them all together hanging as makeshift ornaments. Scattered beneath the boughs were a few presents, some more sloppily wrapped (her own doing) than others.

Gendry was nowhere to be found, so Arya sat down next to the tree with her coffee and looked at the presents. There was a brown paper bag with wayward tissue sticking out from it with her name written across, clearly from Meera. Inside was a nice scarf and a bottle of whisky.

Next Arya took the best looking present designated to her (obviously from Hot Pie) and unwrapped it to find a gift card for takeout and a tin of her favorite cookies.

Then there was one. The package was small but clearly wrapped by Gendry, and when she pulled off the top of the box she felt her breath catch. It was a leather band, wolves clamped into the fabric, that wrapped around her wrist three times before it clasped. It almost looked as if the wolves were running the way the image moved around her wrist. It was perfect, and it was clear Gendry had made it just for her.

“So, do you like it?” he asked. She hadn’t noticed him come in and lean against the doorway.

It was some of the the first words they had spoken to each other since the awkwardness of that night. Arya was nervous to turn around and face him with the way her eyes were tearing up. Furiously, she wiped away at the moisture and took a deep breath.

“Rather mediocre, actually,” she said with a wobble in her voice that made it fairly obviously how deeply it had touched her. When she turned to look at him—him, clad in athletic shorts and a baggy sweatshirt with bedhead hair—she felt her throat constrict further. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

It was everything. He was everything. She wished she could say it better, and that he would be able to understand the depth to which she felt it. Though, with the way he looked at her, maybe he could understand. In some ways, their connection had seemed to transcend words. They understood each other.

“I have a good feeling about this next year,” Arya said. She pushed the hair behind her ears and wiped underneath her eyes again. “Things are going to be good.”

“ _You_ always are,” he said. She wanted to believe it, so she did. Christmas spirit and all that.  

* * *

“It’ll be okay, and if you need me I’m right out here, right?” Jon told her, leafing through a magazine he had brought.

Arya nodded and followed the receptionist as she lead her down the hall. She was too perky and too blonde but Arya kept all those thoughts at bay. “Here you go,” she said before disappearing back the way she had come.

“Hi,” Arya said as she sat down on the couch. The woman across from her was older with a reserved brow. “I don’t…”

The woman nodded and crossed her legs. Her posture was impeccable. “Don’t be nervous, girl. We’ll talk it out together. That's what therapy is all about. No need to worry.”

“Okay,” Arya said. She breathed, let the anxiety try to leave her lungs. There was still something tapping at the inside of her chest, but it felt more contained. Maybe she could do this. “Okay.”

“So,” the woman said. “Where would you like to begin?”


	4. s p r i n g

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and when the snow melts, flowers bloom

                                                   

* * *

* * *

_10...9...8...7…_

 

Meera came from somewhere behind and kissed Arya sloppily on the cheek before slipping back into the crowd.

 

_6...5...4…_

 

Jon cheered her with a beer from across the room. Sansa held confetti in her hand, a small piece already stuck to her lip gloss.

 

_3...2…_

 

Bran and Jojen creeped toward one another.

 

_1…Happy New Year!_

“Happy New Year, Stark,” Gendry said, staring at the crowd of cheering people alongside her.

She turned, reached up on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. By the time he looked toward her, she was already back to watching the crowd.

 “Happy New Year.”

* * *

The street they walked across was cobblestone, making Arya have to watch her feet every few steps to protect her ankles. Sansa was doing it in heels, and Arya couldn’t even comprehend that. There were so many skills Sansa seemed to simply posses that Arya would never be able to grasp, though she didn’t much want to.

“How’s therapy going?” Sansa shifted her cup of coffee from one hand to the other.

Arya groaned. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Sansa shrugged. “As long as you’re doing better, and it’s helping you, that's what matters.”

The wind fluttered past, knocking some of the remaining winter chills into Arya’s side. The snow melted at their feet, marking the end of another season.

“It is.” Arya took a sip of her coffee, the warmth radiating through her body. It didn’t feel like a lie. Her mind felt uncluttered and focused, and while sadness still sat like a constant reaper over her, it was becoming smaller and smaller everyday. She was starting to feel like she could wake up and count on being able to breathe.

But there were still terrifying, huge things she knew she had to tackle if she wanted to continue moving toward something better. It felt as if after taking one huge step forward there were still a million more hurdles to jump over.

“Wait,” Sansa said, halting in her steps on the sidewalk. “Did I tell you Margaery and Meera totally hooked up?”

“I’m sorry, _what_ ?” Arya asked, throwing a hand up into the air. “Next time, you need to _open_ with the fun gossip and not make me trudge through a conversation about therapy before we hit this. Tell me every detail.”

Sansa giggled. “I woke up, and Meera was in the kitchen wearing one of Margaery’s sweatshirts and no pants.”

“She has no body shame,” Arya said, motioning with her hands for Sansa to continue.

“The best thing is it seems like Margaery really likes her.” Sansa pulled her pink jacket closer.

Arya watched her sister’s profile as they began to walk again, the wind whistling through their hair. There had always been a fine line in Margaery and Sansa’s relationship that Arya wasn’t sure she could define and didn’t want to ask about. Maybe it was more, but maybe it just was a strong, intense friendship. Being irrevocably in love with your best friends was a beautiful thing.

“And you’re good with that?” Arya asked.

Sansa looked up, maybe a little surprised at the openness Arya had with initiating a conversation like that. It seemed to surprise her every time it happened, and Arya tried to not be offended by that. It was in her nature to stay closed to emotional intimacy, after all. Her journey was still a long one.

“I’m good with it,” Sansa said. “I love Margaery deeply, but I don’t want to date her. I want her to be happy, and if she can do it with someone as wonderful as Meera, than all the better.” She took a sip of her drink, cupping her hands around the cup for warmth. “I don’t think I can get used to an emotional Arya.”

Arya scoffed. “Please don’t. She is a rare beast, and we don’t need to _talk_ about her. It makes it worse.”

“Noted.” Sansa reached out, squeezing Arya briefly into her side.

They were more than their tragedies. They were bound together by family and love and an enjoyment of the other. It made Arya feel so proud of the woman beside her, and, dare she say it, proud of herself.

* * *

The day of Robb’s birthday, Arya woke from a dreamless sleep. She spent too long lying in bed as she stared at the ceiling. There was something about Robb’s death that had always haunted her differently. Maybe it was his own hand in it that made his birthday the hardest.

She was mad, really. Her and Jon had talked about it a few times, and she had spent a whole therapy session unpacking her strange and weird feelings of guilt and anger. The web of emotions she had revolved around Robb she was constantly untangling until she could feel somewhere in the realm of okay about it all.

The day after Rickon’s birthday, Arya had woken up to a text from Sansa. She had made an ornate cupcake—funfetti, like he liked—with a beautiful fondant dog Sansa must have spent hours crafting sitting guard on top. They had both partaken in tributes of some kind, and as Arya thought about it now it wasn’t the worst idea to get herself up and out of bed.

The darkness had never really made her feel _better_ , just not worse. Sometimes, just nothing.

It was incredible how much showers had always made her feel better. In the moments of depression it seemed too much effort, but as soon as she got herself under the stream she at least felt a little more human. The water was too hot as Arya stepped underneath, but there was something about the sensation that kept her present.

Once she had cleaned herself up, she slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt from her gym. Luckily, Hot Pie wasn’t around so Arya had free reign of the kitchen without worrying about his fretful gaze. There was no way flour didn’t end up over every surface in the kitchen with the way she cooked.

First, she set up an old playlist of Robb’s. Then she looked up a recipe for chocolate cake on her phone. It looked simple enough, but Arya knew there was a good chance she would mess it up somehow.

After a few minutes, there were soft pads of feet down the hallway’s wooden floor. When Arya looked up, Gendry was watching her from the doorway.

“You want help?” he asked.

She shrugged, and he came closer. Together, they measured out the flour and the sugar. Gendry stirred the bowl while Arya sprayed down the cake tin. He clucked his tongue at her when she went to dip her finger in the batter, and she laughed at the sound.

“What do you do for your mom’s birthday?” Arya asked as they set the timer.

Gendry froze a little with the question, but he recovered quickly. “I like to go to this diner she used to take me to on Sundays for brunch. We didn’t have a lot of extra money lying around, but she had a friend in the kitchen who would put us together something lavish for fun. It was always a good moment there, no stress about money or bills. I go there and have some pancakes and figure out what to do with the rest of my day.”

Arya nodded, eyes trained on the oven. She took a deep breath and looked toward Gendry. He was strong and broad. His hair was a little messy as he had started to let it grow, and there was a fleck of flour near the right side of his mouth. Her heart constricted looking at him, thinking about all of the things inside of him she loved and appreciated.

She really hated acknowledging that. She really hated having to be anything more than a blade.

“We don’t talk about your mom much,” she said. “What was she like?”

“Kind,” Gendry said with a small smile. “Too trusting, probably.”

“Robb was too, I think,” Arya said. “He wanted to believe the best in people, almost to a fault.”

“Was chocolate his favorite?” Gendry asked.

Arya shrugged. “I can’t remember. Which I know sounds stupid because he hasn’t been gone that long, but I know Rickon’s was funfetti and my mom loved strawberry. I can’t remember if chocolate was my dad or Robb’s favorite. It kinda feels like admitting defeat if I ask, though.”

“Cake is cake,” Gendry offered, and Arya smiled at him. “Do you want to talk about us? About the porch?”

He looked earnest but without pressure. Arya pushed her hair behind her ears and thought about what her therapist would say. _Just because I want you to be honest and have conversations, doesn’t mean you have to have them before you’re ready._

“I do,” Arya said. “Just not today.”

Gendry nodded. “Whenever you want.” He crouched in front of the oven, despite it still needing a good chunk of time, and watched the cake inside.

Bending down, Arya plopped down beside him on the floor. The two of them sat, staring at the cake rise as the smell began wafting through the room.

“My mom liked vanilla with buttercream frosting,” Gendry said.

Arya looked at the planes of his face, his profile. “When it’s her birthday, let’s make one together.”

He smiled at her, and she felt her stomach ease. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Meera stood in the living room with a workout bag over her shoulder, tapping her foot impatiently. “Come on, Arya. This is important so you are _not_ going to be late.”  

“You don’t have to come,” she said as she slipped into her tennis shoes.

“Not every day my roommate has a super cool outdoor class,” Meera said. “We’re supporting you.”

“We-”

Gendry and Hot Pie appeared from the hallway, both wearing athletic shorts and shirts. Arya wanted to groan, but she also couldn’t help but want to laugh.

“Guys! It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Dude, you’re partnered with a local fitness magazine! It’s cool!” Hot Pie said.

“Sansa, Margaery, and Jon are all going to be there, too. Don’t make it seem like we’re the only ones putting up a fuss,” Meera pointed out as she pulled Arya out the door. “It’s good to acknowledge your accomplishments.”

It had come out of nowhere, really. One day Arya was teaching a class with a few more students than normal, and the next she was getting a call from a local magazine about teaming up for an outdoor workout spring program they were starting up. It was all about young workout professionals who were doing interesting things, motivating people of all types.

“I just thought I was teaching,” Arya said to Gendry when she found out.

“Who knew you could touch hearts at the same time,” he said with a snort. Then he smiled at her, wide and uninhibited. “It’s because you’re good at what you’re doing.”

When they arrived to the park, Arya felt a bit of apprehension settle in. Her friends walked over to meet her siblings, Arya gave them all a wave, and she got outfitted with a headset microphone to teach her class.

It was a mixture of practical boxing moves (she had to switch the way her class functioned slightly without punching bags), self defense moves, and high intensity interval training workouts. Arya liked to try to keep it fun, but she also liked people to feel empowered. It was the same way she felt knowing she was strong, could take someone on and defend herself. She never wanted anyone to feel defenseless if she could help it.

 _Wonder why that is,_ she could almost hear a voice that sounded eerily like Sansa in the back of her head.

As she took stage, she felt her chest tighten. These were the moments she wanted her dad to be able to see. She would tell her mom all about it. Her family would be proud of the young woman she had become despite her rebellious youth.

She couldn’t stop herself from living because they weren’t here anymore, though. She had to live _because_ they weren’t. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t imagine their pride, their joy at seeing her succeed. If she held that knowledge close to her heart, it still felt good.

“Welcome to class everybody! I’m Arya Stark, and are you guys ready to sweat?” she called to the lawn, watching the mass of faces that had turned up to workout with her.

The crowd clapped, screamed, and cheered. Arya couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, let’s get to work then.”

* * *

The article they wrote about Arya was detailed, with pictures from the event and a few others they brought her in to pose for. When it was published officially a week afterward, Meera practically dragged the lot of them out to the bar.

“We are _celebrating_ ,” she said with more enthusiasm than Arya was used to. The spring was energerizing her, as was Margaery.

Sansa, Jon, Bran and Jojen all met up with them at Brienne’s, and it was a proper evening out. Gendry even gave her a piggyback ride on the walk to the bar which she gladly took advantage of.

“Look at that! It’s our local celebrity,” Brienne said when they walked in. She pointed to behind the bar, where they had set up the magazine that held a picture of Arya. “Celebrities, as a matter of fact, drink free.”

“I like the sound of that song,” Arya said. “Your finest pint. And my friends may not be as famous as me, but I think I should treat them to a pitcher.”

Brienne shook her head with a laugh. “We’ll try to make it happen, _Ms_. _Stark_.”

The music was louder than it normally was, and Arya watched as Sansa couldn’t help but sway to the beat. She pulled in Margaery, the two of them moving, and when Brienne noticed she turned it purposefully up behind the bar. Meera laughed and joined, singing exaggeratedly and pointing at Hot Pie and Jojen.

It was crazy to think these people had all come together in only a year. Last spring Arya had been a shell of herself, desperate to forget everything. It had been her and the remaining Starks. There was no space for new people, but now her life was filled to the brim with people she cared deeply for.

Her eyes caught with Gendry a few feet down the bar, talking to Jon about something. He tapped at his pocket where she knew his cigarettes sat, and she smiled as she motioned for him to meet her out front.

He followed a minute later, leaning his back against the brick wall and lighting up a cigarette.

“I think this is going to be my last pack,” he said.

“What?” she asked as she grabbed the cigarette from his hand and took a long drag. “It’s our thing.”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to find a new thing. I think we can manage that.”

“End of an era,” she said. As she passed the cigarette back to him their fingers grazed. “We’ve had a lot of good conversations over cigarette smoke.”

“And a few not so good,” he said. Her eyes were trained forward, watching another group of friends smoking and chatting. When she turned, his eyes were still on her. “Can I talk to you about that? You don’t have to respond, but I need you to know something.”

She swallowed, and her throat felt dry. After a beat, she nodded.

“I didn’t let you kiss me because I care about you,” Gendry said. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck and scratched at his hairline nervously before he stood back up straighter. “If this is going to happen, you and me, I need you to know that it isn’t a small thing. There isn’t any going back for me. It’s you and me, real feelings, serious. I like you too much to be a fling, and I wanted you to know that I’m willing to wait however long it takes. There’s just no middle ground, though.”

All of the dark thoughts she had had afterwards—he didn’t actually care for her, it wasn’t serious, he wasn’t attracted to her—were wiped from her mind. Sansa had been right. Gendry loved her in his own way, and he wanted all or nothing. Arya could appreciate that because she had never been one to half ass the things that mattered most to her.

Going in with all of her heart. It was the one thing that had scared her the most the last few years, but staring at Gendry she wanted nothing more than to do that. She wanted him fully and completely.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” he replied. His face scrunched up, clearly nervous.

“I want that with you,” Arya said. “I just… I’m still working. I need to figure,” she paused to motion toward her chest, “all of this out. I’m still a mess.”

His eyes were trained on her face. “So am I.”

She paused, working her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ll wait?”

He pulled the cigarette from his lips and passed it to her, blowing the smoke away from the pair of them. “Arya Stark, you’re worth a little bit of fucking wait time. Just, don’t make fun of me forever for saying that.”

Laughing, she leaned into his side. “I can’t promise that.”

“Guess I shoulda known.” He watched as she scrunched the cigarette underneath her foot. “We have five more cigarettes.”

“I have a box with seven left,” she said.

“Thirteen more.”

He held out his hand, and she took it to shake. She wasn’t sure if it had more to do with their conversation or a pact with the cigarettes, but she figured she could make either work. Gendry was worth that.

* * *

Meera held out the popcorn bowl as they walked back to public transit, and Arya shook her head no. They had seen some action movie, rather subpar, but the company had been nice.

“You’re really going to be done with cigarettes? How are you going to escape us all at bars and parties now?” Meera asked.

“Am I going to have to actually talk to people?” Arya asked. “I’m not ready for that.”

“Growing up sucks.” Meera took a big handful of popcorn, crunching loudly as a few pieces fell to the ground. “Can you believe Margaery actually thinks I’m attractive? I’m disgusting.”

“Cute disgusting,” Arya said, reaching out to pinch at Meera’s cheek. Meera slapped her hand away. “My favorite disgusting.”

“I think she likes the lack of pressure, honestly.” Meera handed the popcorn off to Arya so she could throw her curly hair up into a bun. They stopped by the bus stop. “And I like her personality, and the way she makes lots of things I’ve never found fun before cool.”

Arya watched her roommate with a bit of awe at the way she was struck with love, how she had found two good things in such quick succession. Sure, Bran had ended poorly, but the two of them had been genuinely happy for some time. Now, they both had found happiness somewhere else.

“How are you able to go from Bran and jump wholeheartedly into Margaery?” Arya asked.

“I like love,” Meera said with a shrug. “I like having genuine connections with people in my life, and I’m not going to shy away from them because bad stuff happens. I don’t think I ever told you this, but Jojen was really sick for a while when I was a teenager. There was a time where I thought I had no left with him, and then he pulled through healthier than he had a right to be, and I realized it’s all pointless to waste time when I don’t have to. I’d rather get hurt and succeed then feel nothing at all.”

It reminded Arya of the conversation she had with Gendry months ago. How they had both spent so long feeling nothing because it seemed easier. In the end, though, that nothing was fine but it was still nothing. She didn’t want to skate through her life without meaning anymore if she could help it, and it would always be hard battling with her depression and anxiety. There wasn’t a way for that to simply go away, but she was _trying._

Through therapy and working on being more emotionally open, she was attempting to make her life different. She was trying to make it healthier, so that when shit hit the fan she had some coping mechanisms in place. Maybe it would be easier to bounce back if she adjusted some things around.

“I can’t be the first person to tell you that in your life, though. I mean, can I?” Meera asked.

“No, you’re not,” Arya said. “It doesn’t hurt to hear good lessons repeated, though.”

“God, I should be a teacher with all this wisdom I have to throw around. Where are the children?”

“Um, you also need to teach something, like a subject.”

Meera waved it away with her hand. “Semantics.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Arya said as she finally shoved the popcorn tub back into Meera’s arms.

The other girl smiled and laughed, the two joining together. When the bus came, they got on and headed home.

* * *

  _“I don’t_ like _the dresses,” Arya said as she stomped her feet. “Just because Sansa wears them doesn’t mean I should be forced to.”_  

_“Don’t you want to look pretty?” Ned asked as he bent further down, adjusting his suit jacket as he did so. “Your mother picked this one out special.”_

_“If wearing a dress is the only way to be pretty, then I don’t wanna.” She crossed her arms and huffed the hair out of her eye line._

_“Darling,” Ned said, reaching out to grab onto her upper arms. “You’re beautiful no matter what you want to wear, and you’re more than just being pretty. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Why don’t we find you a nice pair of pants, yeah? No dress.”_

_“Really?” Arya asked. She leaned forward and clasped her tiny arms around his neck. “I’m going to be strong and brave and you’ll never have to worry about me.”_

_“I’ll probably worry about you at least a little, but that's what dads do. We love you until the day we die, and then we love you some more.”_

_Arya’s eyebrows scrunched together and her lips pursed. “But you’re not going to die soon, right?”_

_"Not for as long as I can help it.”_

* * *

It was still dark, and Arya reached to her side for her phone. It rang twice before Bran answered.

“Hello?” His voice was bleary, a little sleepy. “Is everything okay?”

“Did I wake you?” Arya asked.

“I wasn’t quite asleep yet,” Bran said, and the rustle of him adjusting in bed could be heard over the line. “What’s up?”

“I keep having these dreams, flashes from when we were younger. It’s been happening all week,” Arya said. “I can’t sleep properly.”

Bran was quiet as he thought. It was funny how even over the phone Arya felt as if she could hear his cogs turning, his brain working.

“When was the last time you went to see them?”

 _Their funerals._ “It’s been a while.”

“I go and just talk. Maybe you need to go see them. It might help.”

“Maybe…”

“That or maybe you just need some asmr to lull you–" 

“Oh fuck off. I’ll never listen to that shit,” Arya replied.

Bran laughed, and Arya joined him. “Why don’t you tell me about your dreams, then.”

Arya breathed deep. “Okay, well tonight it all started with dad…”

* * *

 _“You know, Arya,” her mother said as she combed through her hair. It was knotty, and with every few brushes Arya pulled back with a hiss, “some day you are going to meet someone who you_ won’t _think is icky.”_

 _“They’re_ all _icky. The boys don’t even let me talk about the sports games because I’m a girl.”_

_“It might seem crazy, but you could fall in love someday,” her mother said._

_“Sansa can fall in love,” Arya said before making a blegh sound. “I don’t want it.”_  

* * *

Arya reached into the cupboards and pulled out a bowl for cereal, which she heartily filled. As she ate her breakfast, she walked around the apartment in search of her tennis shoes. Gendry was at the kitchen table, and he looked up from the newspaper he was reading to roll his eyes at her.

“You left them by the bathroom last night ‘cause you came home and said you couldn’t talk to anyone until you’d showered.”

“Thanks,” she said, setting down the cereal bowl to go retrieve them quickly and slip them on her feet.

“You have any plans after work today?” Gendry asked. “Some people from the shop were going to go get drinks.”

“Um…” she trailed off as she grabbed the cereal bowl back up. “I’m actually going to go visit my family’s graves, I think. It’s been a while.”

“You want any company?” he asked casually, like she was saying she was going to the grocery store or something similarly as quotidian. “I don’t have to go get drinks.”

“No,” she said. “I think I want to do it alone. I don’t need a babysitter.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, fine. That's the last time I’m nice to you.”

“Fat chance,” Arya said with a smile. “You’re a sucker who can’t fight my charms.”

He stood up and set down the newspaper, grabbing his light jacket from the back of his chair. “I’m going to work. You can keep bantering with yourself if you like, since you’re having so much fun.”

“Have a good day. Fix lots of cars,” she said as he grabbed his keys. 

“Yeah, yeah. Call me if you need me.”

* * *

The graveyard was brighter than Arya remembered, though that could have more to do with the sunny day outside and the fallibility of her memory than anything else. She had to stop to ask directions because the yard was so large and she forgot how to get to the section with her families graves, but after a few failed attempts she was able to stumble upon them.

_Ned Stark. Catelyn Stark. Rickon Stark. Robb Stark._

They all sat in a row, still looking fresh and clean, though grass was growing over all of them now. Arya sat a flower down on top of every grave, and then she sat herself down in the middle of them all.

“Hi guys,” she said, feeling silly. “This is kinda stupid, but I thought I would give it a try. I guess I never came because I knew you weren't actually here. It seemed pointless.”

Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped. Arya watched the graveyard around her, noticing all the empty graves and long-gone people. There were so many ended lives around her, and maybe it was macabre, but there was something calming about that. The simplicity that everyone ended up in the same place at the end of it.

“It’s been hard,” Arya said. “I guess for a long time moving on felt like forgetting you all or betraying your memory or something, and I didn’t know how to be Arya without all of you. I’m working on it, though. Moving on and all that.

“I don’t think I can exist the same without you. I’m different, but I think you’d like who I’ve become. I’m starting to. And I met this boy? Mom, you probably would have hated him at first actually. Dad, you’d have a riot with him.

“He’s going to be around for a while, and if you don’t like it you can all just shove off. Though I do hope you grow to like him as much as I do. He’s a good person, and he loves me for some reason. Guess you were right, mom. I met someone who wasn’t icky. Right inconvenient that can be.

“I won’t waste your time, but I hope you know I love you all. Maybe I’ll come say hi again, I don’t know. Hey, maybe I’ll try to bring him along. We’ll see. Have a nice day and all that.”

Arya sat for a few moments longer as the sun began to set, but before it got too dark she set out with one last goodbye. It was nice, but she was tired of hanging out with ghosts today. She actually wanted to be around other people.

Instead of heading home, she headed somewhere else. She hadn't called ahead, but she had a feeling it was okay. As she knocked on the apartment door, she shifted from foot to foot.

Jon opened it. “Arya?”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Always,” Jon said, stepping to the side. “Sansa’s already over.”

Arya walked toward the living room, spotting Sansa on the couch. Her sister waved, and Arya jumped onto the couch next to her.

“Why, hello,” Sansa said with humor in her voice. “What brought you over this evening?”

“I went and visited them,” Arya said. “I guess I just didn’t feel like being alone right now.”

Jon came to Arya’s other side, falling into the couch beside her. They fit perfectly the three of them.

“We were debating between pizza or sushi.”

“Yuck, pizza obviously,” Arya said.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I would have worn Jon down, you know. Now he’s going to side with you.”

Jon shrugged. “Majority rules?”

“Fine, but I get to pick movie.” Sansa reached her hand out for the controller, and Jon willingly handed it over.

Arya stuffed herself further into the couch, listening as Jon and Sansa bantered back and forth. It felt comfortable. It felt like home.

* * *

 _12 cigarettes left._  

“I can’t believe you had one without me,” Gendry said with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but this is a hard craving to knock.”

_11 cigarettes._

They leaned up against the side of the bar, passing the cigarette between them. Arya reached out, touching the divet in his cheek.

“You have a dimple, you know. Just one right here when you smile. 

He smiled wider at the comment, pulling the cigarette from between his teeth. “You watching me when I smile, Stark?” 

She shrugged. “Only every once in a while. When everything else is really fucking boring.”

_10._

“I’m just saying…” Arya said, leaning over their railing. “I really, _really_ don’t want to have to start talking to other people again. It’s so much _work._ ”

He chuckled. “We can do it together. Don’t be such a baby. 

_9, 8, 7._

“What did you think of me when you first met me?” Gendry asked. They were sitting on the stoop outside of Jojen’s apartment. The sun was still setting, casting a yellow glow over them.

“Feeling a bit nostalgic, are we?” she asked, taking a puff of the cigarette and passing it back. “I thought you were tall and broad. You seemed a bit distracted, maybe. Like you were tired.”

“I needed a roommate, and I was tired of people flaking out on me,” he said. “I could tell you were tough as nails the first time you walked in through the door.”

“Yeah?” she asked.

He nodded. “You have this energy, compact and intense. It’s almost scary, but you also looked kinda sad.”

“I was always sad, then,” she said.

 “And now?” he asked. “What’s the ratio?”

 The yellows began to turn more pink, streaking the sky. Arya thought it made Gendry’s skin look rather nice.

“I’m still sad, sometimes, but I’ve got a lot of things to be happy about I guess. I can’t believe you guys made me like you all, now I have to go and talk to strangers at _parties._ It’s disgusting.”  

He laughed, head thrown back and cigarette dangling from between his weathered fingers. Arya had the strangest, warmest feeling of never wanting to be anywhere else. Of no other sound feeling quite so familiar. 

_6, 5._

“You’re absolutely pissed,” Gendry said, trying to hand her a drink of water.

“You just tripped over your own foot. Don’t lecture me,” she said with an aggravated swing of the cigarette.

_4, 3, 2._

The sounds of Sansa and Jon arguing as they worked at the grill in the park fluttered across the wind, light and airy. It was intercut with laughter, and Margaery kept throwing remarks their way. Meera and Jojen threw a ball back and forth.

“You’ll still talk to me when they’re all gone?” Gendry asked, a joking smile on his lips.

“The cigarettes?” she asked. She whistled low and long, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. I might need another vice to get through your presence, sugar perhaps? I’ll figure it out.”

He hit her shoulder with his. “You’re still just as much a brat as the day I met you.”

“I keep you on your toes,” she replied.

He looked at her with admiration and fondness, a twinkle in his eyes. “That you do.”

 _1._  

They sat on their porch, alternating between a bottle of beer and the last cigarette. They had been saving it for a moment reserved only for the two of them, and this friday everyone else was out of the apartment.

“Do you want the last drag?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You take it.”

He held the cigarette delicately between his lips, almost as if it was a religious experience, and took a long pull. When it was over, the smoke drifted into the wind and disappeared.

“A bit anticlimactic?” he asked.

She shrugged, watching the snub join the rest in the ashtray. They watched the street, though nothing was happening. A song filtered out from the speaker in the kitchen, and Gendry was humming along underneath his breath. There was a streak of oil underneath his left ear, and Arya had to tighten her hand into a fist to keep from reaching out.

“I’m going to always be a bit depressed, or like, always be dealing with it I mean,” Arya said.

Gendry paused, looking over at her with a raised brow. “Okay.”

“I’m never going to be perfectly nice. I’ll mess up a lot, because I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m forever a mess. Just so you know.” Her throat got tighter, feeling closer to something she couldn’t quite name.

“That's okay,” he said with a gentle smile. His lips spread slowly across his face, making his eyes light up with the action. “Believe it or not, I love you for everything you _are_ Arya Stark.”

“I love you, too,” she said, and she hated that she could feel a small wetness grow at the corner of her eyes. “I really do.”

“Don’t run,” he said in a whisper, pushing himself up from his chair.

She nodded, sitting up as he took a tentative step toward her. “I’m not a wild animal,” she argued halfheartedly.

“Aren’t you?” he replied, bending forward to be at eye level.

His hand reached out to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it. She bent forward until their foreheads were touching.

“I hate feelings,” she said.

“I know." 

“But I love you.”

The smile that itched at his lips was contagious. “I know.”

Arya reached an arm around his neck, and then they were kissing. Gendry was gentle, the two of their lips meeting slowly, but then it was more. It had taken them a whole year to move to this point, and Arya so quickly wanted _more_. Everything.

She was ready for it, and she was glad she had waited to be sure of that.

“I’m an old man,” Gendry said as he pulled back. “I cannot stay squatted like this.”

“Then into the living room we go, grandpa.”

He hoisted her up, and she yelped before throwing her head back with laughter. Gendry carried her like she weighed nothing, which in comparison to him she did. She liked leaving kisses onto his neck, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder, and tickling his ears with her hair.

“Worth every minute of waiting,” he teased as they fell onto the couch.

“Yeah?” she asked.

He nodded seriously, kissing her temple before moving to the corner of her mouth and leaving a kiss there, too. “Yeah.”

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Arya reached out to grab at Gendry’s waist as he moved.

“Don’t go.”

“Arya,” he said, wrapping his arms around her own where they laid around his torso. “If you want food, then I have to go to the door.”

She whispered dramatically. “What if you never come _back._ ”

“And people say Sansa is the dramatic one. You’d walk around in costume all year if it was okay. I’ll be back in just a second, and then we don’t have to leave for the rest of the night.”

“Fine,” she said, bending forward to kiss the divet in the middle of his back. He stepped out of the room, and she flopped onto her stomach. “Don’t forget the soda!”

He laughed, and she sank further into his sheets. Blissful. Content.

* * *

“How have you been this past week, Arya? Anything interesting pop up?” Her therapist took a sip from her mug, watching her over the rim.

“Some things happened,” Arya said as she worked her hands in her lap. “I’m happy.”

“But?” Her therapist asked. “You look like there’s a but.”

“I don’t know if I really know how to be happy,” she said after a beat.

Her therapist nodded, taking the information in and setting her tea down. “It’s hard for us to let ourselves be happy sometimes, especially after everything we’ve been through. Being happy doesn’t mean everything is going to magically get better. You’re still going to face dark moments, but you can let the happy spots be happy.”

Arya paused as she thought over the idea. Gendry made her happy. Her roommates made her happy. Everyone in her life added something unique and special. Happiness was hard for her to grasp, but after everything she had been through maybe it was time for her to finally fully accept she could deserve this.

 _Let the happy spots be happy._ Her mother would have told her to open her arms, and if it didn’t sound so goddamn cheesy, she would probably have agreed out loud to do just that.

* * *

“I can’t believe you don’t want to play,” Sansa said as they sat on the bleachers, watching the others play an impromptu game of soccer.

“Maybe in a few minutes, but I wanted to sit with you first.” She didn’t want Sansa to sit alone in the stands, seeing as Bran hadn’t made it here yet. Plus, she didn’t mind watching the rest of them play for a little while.

“Arya!” Gendry called, waving her out. She shook her head with a laugh, and he jogged over. “Come on. I need my right flank.”

“More like you’re _my_ right flank,” she said. The sun beat down, and she threw her sweatshirt off. It was starting to grow hotter every day.

“It’s almost summer.” Gendry shielded his eyes as he looked up into the sky.

“I think we’re going to have a good one,” she said, and when he looked back at her she smiled.

“Better if you came to play.” She shook her head no again, and he bent forward to press a kiss to her lips. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Oh my god, you guys are sickening. Go out and play already,” Sansa said, but Arya looked up from her place over Gendry’s shoulder to see her smiling, waving them on.

Hot Pie ran over to sit with Sansa, and Arya paired up across from Meera as soon as Gendry let her down.

“You ready?” Meera asked.

Arya looked around her, positioning her feet to be sturdy. The sun filtered across them all, powerful and warm. It was the beginning of something new but familiar.

Nodding, she smiled wide. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys have enjoyed this story! I always appreciate feedback on what you liked/didn't like/what you want to see in the future. Thank you to everyone who stuck through the long ass hiatus I took with this baby <3

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr: [clarkescrusade](http://clarkescrusade.tumblr.com/)


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